The Tale of Civia Snape
by AStudyInTeal
Summary: SEQUEL to "Tale of Civia Potter". Albus is dead, the Order betrayed, Civia forlorn, and Severus the traitor. Voldemort is gaining power; her nephew Harry is in danger. Civia finds herself unwittingly in a dark plot with Snape. - OFC/Snape - Deathly Hallows, slightly AU
1. First Love

**Hello everyone!**

**TO MY FIRST-TIME READERS: Be sure you have read The Tale of Civia Potter first!**

**Now, to everyone:**

**This is Part Two of the Civia Series. When we left her, she was in the Hospital Wing, from shock, and recovered to visit Albus Dumbledore's grave. The Prologue goes back a bit to when she is watching the funeral from her window. It sets the mood and gives you an insight to her emotional frame. **

**The first few chapters are very angst-y, I warn you. THIS IS NOT, for the most part, A HAPPY FANFICTION. It is in the middle of a war, within which, Civia finds herself doubting their chances of victory or even simply surviving. **

**I try to keep it as canon as possible, but that can only go so far with an OC as the protagonist.**

**So- My thanks to:**

**1 - JK Rowling, who owns the Wizarding World completely, except Civia.**

**2 - My beta and best friend: ZoeyAradiaMystique**

**3 - ALL OF YOU!**

**THANK YOU!**

**ALSO - Anything you recognize comes directly from The Deathly Hallows  
**

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* * *

Prologue**

Everyone knows that, as in all wars, life goes on.

The fighting doesn't stop children from going to classes and lessons, or the daily schedule of a school. It doesn't stop business of a grubby old bar, or of a popular tavern. It doesn't stop the shopkeepers from opening their stores, or customers from buying from them. It doesn't stop teenagers from flirting and fighting and falling in love. It doesn't stop children from playing and getting into fights, and being sent to the nurse.

It doesn't stop people from living their lives.

Birds will still fly in the soft blue sky above. Creatures—seen or unseen—will still whisper about in the forest. Plants will still grow and flourish.

Life goes on; even when it feels like it is all falling apart before your eyes, like the ground is breaking apart under your feet. Life still goes on, despite the war, until it is in your home.

When war has come to and past through the threshold of your home, suddenly gravity is not what's weighing you down—it is the sorrows, the grief, the losses, the weight of the world on your shoulders that does.

That was what Civia was thinking as she watched Albus' funeral at Hogwarts from the Hospital Wing window.

That was what she felt like—as if gravity didn't have a hold on her, and it was only her grief and sorrow holding her on the ground, as well as the responsibility for the future of the world and the lives in it. Yes, Harry may carry a great burden, but he was not the only one.

She and her nephew were one of many whose burdens had grown considerably…

But under that crushing weight of responsibility, her heart lay shattered in the wreckage.

**

* * *

Chapter 1**

_**"My daddy said, that the first time you fall in love, it changes you forever and no matter how hard you try, that feeling just never goes away."**_**  
****— ****Nicholas Sparks**** (****The Notebook****)**

Summer passed idly by, days slipping into weeks…

Civia operated mechanically for the longest time, simply brewing and re-organizing out of habit rather than thought.

Harry was at the Durselys, with only her as his occasional visitor, when she was under the guise of a mail owl. The Dursleys were none the wiser as she visited and kept Harry better fed than usual. He was adamant of not returning to Hogwarts, and Civia did not push him. He would soon be of-age, and she had no control for what he did. Both knew that she could not go with the trio.

Civia's place was at Hogwarts, to protect her students and her home.

She knew it, and everyone else did too.

It was a week before Harry's birthday, as an Order meeting began that Civia snapped out of her grieving, robotic stupor.

They had been arguing for an hour—over the date, over the method, over the operatives. In short, over everything.

Moody planned upon Apparating to and from Privet Drive, before Kingsley pointed out that the Death Eaters had wormed their way into virtually every Department and sub-department of the Ministry.

Beside her, Mundungus Fletcher was trying to doze, trying to not get chosen to do anything dangerous, the coward. He shifted in his seat and muttered something unintelligible—from which Civia only caught two words: "decoys…Polyjuice".

Her head tilted to the side as she froze, deep in thought…

"Polyjuiced decoys."

Her voice silenced the bickering more effectively than a silencing charm. "What?" asked Moody gruffly.

Civia looked up to the group and spoke softly, working her way through a plan with Dung's idea. "Polyjuice potion. We can make several decoy Harry Potters…Each decoy and Harry would have one protector. Some could fly on brooms…thestrals possibly…Hagrid and his decoy could take the flying motorbike…"

There was a pause as everyone turned this over in their minds.

Moody nodded. "Perfect."

After the meeting in the Burrow's sitting room ended, Civia lingered in the doorway as the others chatted.

Molly paused as she headed towards the kitchen. "Civia, stay for dinner, why don't you? You're looking too peaky—have you been eating properly?"

_No, Molly_.

"Yes, Molly."

The Weasley matriarch gave her a doubtful look. "You're getting far too thin, Civia. You were always petite, but this is unhealthy. You need to eat—if not for you, then for Harry and Hogwarts!"

"I'm fine, Molly."

Even to her, her voice was dead, hollow. Molly pursed her lips, but motioned for the Potions Mistress to follow her into the kitchen.

The older witch bustled around for a minute, before setting two cups of tea on the table and seating herself beside Civia.

"What's wrong, Civia?" she asked motherly.

The Potter woman drew a shuddering breath before sipping the tea. "Snape," she whispered.

Realization bloomed on Molly's face, followed by sympathy. "Oh, Civia. I should have known."

"I don't know what to do, Molly," the Potions Mistress confessed. "I loved him—I truly did with all my heart…and I thought he returned that love…"

The older woman patted her friend's shoulder consolingly. "Don't blame yourself, dear. He tricked us all, even Dumbledore."

A pang echoed in her chest at the name—the reminder of the loss she'd suffered—not one, but two loved ones lost…

Pain that she had never known before that night still ached in her chest, suffocating her, crushing her. It made her feel like she was dying slowly inside.

Somehow, it made Civia realize that, though she hated him now, she had loved Snape, and she had changed because of her first love—and nothing was ever going to change that or undo it.


	2. Wake Me Up Inside

**Chapter 2**

"_**How can you see into my eyes like open doors?  
Leading you down into my core  
Where I've become so numb  
Without a soul,  
My spirit sleeping somewhere cold  
Until you find it there  
And lead it back…home  
Wake me up, Wake me up inside  
I can't wake up,  
Wake me up inside  
Save me  
Call my name and save me from the dark…"**_**  
~ "Bring Me to Life" by Evanescence**

* * *

The darkness seemed to be rippling, the air itself quivering. Then, one by one, figures began to pop into sight as the Disillusionment Charms lifted in the back garden of Number Four Privet Drive. From the door to the kitchen, Harry stood, eyes widening in surprise.

Dominating the scene was Hagrid, wearing a helmet and goggles and sitting astride an enormous motorbike with a black sidecar attached. All around him other people were dismounting from brooms and, in two cases, black winged horses.

Wrenching open the back door, Harry hurtled into their midst. There was a general cry of greeting as Hermione flung her arms around him, Ron clapped him on the back, and Hagrid said, "All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?"

Civia smiled in greeting and hugged him when he came over to her, though she wasn't the same as before, Harry saw. She was paler, thinner, and more tired looking than before, with dark circles under her eyes.

His aunt looked like she was wasting away.

"Definitely," said Harry to Hagrid, beaming around at them all. "But I wasn't expecting this many of you!"

"Change of plan," growled Mad-Eye, who was holding two enormous, bulging sacks, and whose magical eye was spinning, taking in his surroundings. "Let's get undercover before we talk you through it."

Harry led them all back into the kitchen where, laughing and chattering—with one notable exception—, they settled on chairs, sat themselves upon Aunt Petunia's gleaming work surfaces, or leaned up against her spotless appliances: Ron, long and lanky; Hermione, her bushy hair tied back in a long plait; Fred and George, grinning identically; Mr. Weasley, kind-faced, balding, his spectacles a little awry; Mad-Eye, battle-worn, one-legged, his bright blue magical eye whizzing in its socket; Tonks, whose short hair was her favorite shade of bright pink; Lupin, grayer, more lined; Kingsley, bald, black, and broad-shouldered; Hagrid, with his wild hair and beard, standing hunchbacked to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling; Mundungus Fletcher, small, dirty, and hangdog, with his droopy, basset-hound's eyes and matted hair; and finally his aunt who stood beside, surprisingly, his ex-Head of House Minerva McGonagall, the new Headmistress, whose graying black hair and emerald robes were neat as ever.

Harry's heart seemed to expand and glow at the sight: He felt incredibly fond of all of them, even Mundungus, whom he had tried to strangle the last time they had met.

"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?" he called across the room.

"He can get along without me for one night," said Kingsley. "You're more important!"

"Harry, guess what?" said Tonks from her perch on top of the washing machine, and she waggled her left hand at him; a ring glittered there.

"You got married?" Harry yelped, looking from her to Remus

"I'm sorry you couldn't be there, Harry, it was very quiet."

"That's brilliant, congrat —"

"All right, all right, we'll have time for cozy catch-up later!" roared Moody over the hubbub, and silence fell in the kitchen. Moody dropped his sacks at his feet and turned to Harry.

"As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He's made it an imprisonable offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother's charm does that already. What he's really done is to stop you getting out of here safely…"

Civia stared into space as Mad-Eye explained it all, until, finally, he called—

"Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please," said Moody.

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Civia lined up in front of the gleaming sink.

"We're one short," Remus mused.

"Here," said Hagrid gruffly, and he lifted Mundungus by the scruff of the neck and dropped him down beside Civia.

"I've toldjer, I'd sooner be a protector," Mundungus complained.

"Shut it," growled Moody testily. "As I've already told you, you spineless worm, any Death Eaters we run into will be aiming to capture Potter, not kill him. Dumbledore always said You-Know-Who would want to finish Potter in person. It'll be the protectors who have got the most to worry about, the Death Eaters'll want to kill them."

Mundungus did not look particularly reassured, but Moody was already pulling half a dozen shot glasses from inside his cloak, which he handed out, before pouring a little Polyjuice Potion into each one.

"Altogether, then . . ."

They drank as one. Civia gasped and grimaced as the golden-hued potion hit her throat. At once, she felt her features stretch and change, as she shot upwards in height and her hair shot back into her skull, or so it seemed.

Moody, quite unconcerned, was now loosening the ties of the large sacks he had brought with him. When he straightened up again, there were six Harry Potters gasping and panting in front of him.

Civia frowned, glancing into her reflection in the toaster, fingering her much-shorter hair. "Still the same shade and just as messy," she sighed, and realized that her glasses worked almost as well for Harry as for her.

Fred and George turned to each other and said together, "Wow — we're identical!"

"I dunno, though, I think I'm still better looking," said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.

Civia rolled her eyes before accepting the changes of clothes from Moody and began changing with the others.

Finally, they were all done, each with a rucksack, an owl cage, and a stuffed snowy owl inside the cage.

"Good," said Moody, as at last seven dressed, bespectacled, and luggage-laden Harrys faced him. "The pairs will be as follows: Mundungus will be traveling with me, by broom –"

"Why'm I with you?" grunted the Harry nearest the back door unhappily.

"Because you're the one that needs watching," growled Moody, and sure enough, his magical eye did not waver as he continued, "Arthur and Fred —"

"I'm George," said the twin at whom Moody was pointing. "Can't you even tell us apart when we're Harry?"

"Sorry, George—"

"I'm only yanking your wand, I'm Fred really—"

"Enough messing around!" snarled Moody. "The other one – George or Fred or whoever you are — you're with Remus. Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by Thestral—"

Hermione looked reassured as she answered Kingsley's smile; they all knew that Hermione lacked confidence on a broomstick.

"Which leaves you and me, Ron!" said Tonks brightly, knocking over a mug tree as she waved at him. Ron did not look quite as pleased as Hermione.

"I'll be going with Minerva," Civia added for Harry's sake, "on Thestrals. Though I can fly as an Animagus, I absolutely suck at flying on brooms." Harry cracked a grin.

"An' you're with me, Harry. That all righ'?" said Hagrid, looking a little anxious. "We'll be on the bike, brooms and thestrals can't take me weight, see. Not a lot o' room on the seat with me on it, though, so you'll be in the sidecar."

"That's great," said Harry, though strained.

"We think the Death Eaters will expect you to be on a broom," said Moody, who seemed to guess how Harry was feeling. "Snape's had plenty of time to tell them everything about you he's never mentioned before, so if we do run into any Death Eaters, they'll choose one of the Potters who look at home on a broomstick. All right then," he went on, tying up the sack with the fake Potters' clothes in it and leading the way back to the door, "I make it three minutes until we're supposed to leave. No point in locking the back door, it won't keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking . . . Come on . . ."

Civia felt as if a knife was twisted in her chest at the mention of her ex…well, ex-something-or-other…

Harry hurried into the hall to fetch his things before joining the others in the dark back garden. On every side broomsticks were leaping into hands; Kingsley had already helped Hermione onto a great black thestral, and Minerva and Civia were ready on theirs. Hagrid was standing ready beside the motorbike, goggles on.

"Are you ready, Civia?" her colleague asked, anxiety hinting in her voice.

The Potions Mistress nodded stubbornly. "Absolutely. Ready to kick some Death Eater ass," she added in a low mutter, her grip tightening on the alder wand in her hand.

Hagrid kicked the motorbike into life: It roared like a dragon, and the sidecar began to vibrate. The two thestrals fidgeted at the noise.

"Good luck, everyone," shouted Moody over the roar. "See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One . . . two . . . THREE."

Civia's heels dug into the thestral's side, and it gave a screeching call as they took off—

And then, out of nowhere, out of nothing, they were surrounded. At least thirty hooded figures, suspended in midair, formed a vast circle in the midst of which the Order members had risen, oblivious —

Screams, a blaze of green light on every side—

Civia reacted at once, as Minerva and the others did too. "_Stupefy! Expulso! Stupefy! Confringo!"_

Other shouts joined in, spells and lights and fire flying everywhere. Their thestral gave a great screech as it, as sensing the urgency, beat its wings harder, gaining altitude.

Then, a frantic yell came from somewhere in the chaos. "No — HEDWIG!"

As she fought off the others—imitating Harry's dueling style—she watched as a cloaked figure appeared…mid-air…unsupported by anything—no broom, magical creature, or invention—

Voldemort was flying, unaided, just as Civia had learned to…

Beside Moody, the Harry decoy—_Mundungus_, she cursed—disapparated away as Voldemort's eyes zeroed in them and threw a Killing Curse…

The deathly spell soared through the air where Dung had been—and hit Moody, who plummeted to the ground below, limp—dead—

Voldemort smirked, before flying towards the other thestral with Kingsley and Hermione upon it—

No. He'd killed one of them, he couldn't kill another— A Death Eater was closing in, nearly within reach— "_Expelliarmus!_" she yelled, knowing the effect it would have.

The other surrounding Death Eaters reacted instantly. "It's Potter—the real one!"

"Professor—they know!" she screamed, feigning panic. "Hold on tight, Potter!" Minerva snapped, her panic only half false.

Then, the Death Eaters drew back, and Voldemort appeared, like smoke on the wind.

_Sectumsempra_.

Her spell was direct, and the darkest wizard barely deflected it, losing speed because of it.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The thestral screeched as it dived to save its riders from Voldemort's spell.

Voldemort screeched in fury, and there was a yell, from who she didn't know—and something hit her in the back that made everything go black for a moment until her vision cleared again…

And then he was gone, swift as smoke, and the Death Eaters converged again. To her right ahead of her, Civia spied Remus and George on broom.

Then a spell shot at George, and blood poured from one side of his head—Civia spun to see the perpetrator and she shocked to see, flying on a broom—

"_SNAPE!_"

"Civia—no!" Minerva yelled, but it was too late to stop the Potions Mistress, who threw her leg over the thestral's back and leapt from it—

She flew at an unbelievable speed towards the traitor, fury burning in her gaze. The hatred burning in her veins made her feel alive, for the first time in months—more than a shell. This was the final straw and Civia knew her purpose now—revenge on Snape.

How ironic that she used the ability he had taught her, only months ago, against him…

One of the Death Eaters near Snape yelled something, and the Potions Master spun to see his ex-colleague flying at him. Obsidian eyes widened, his face paling.

"Civia!" Minerva screamed behind her, calling her back.

"GO!" the Potions Mistress yelled, fury giving her energy, giving her life… But there was a painful burn in her chest, aching terribly…

Their safe house was right below her, but she had to confront him.

_Sectumsempra!_ She cast, recalling viciously how they'd argued because of such a spell…Severus barely dodged it, but recovered quickly, and several other Death Eaters approached her to fight.

"MINE!" yelled Snape, throwing a spell at the Death Eaters, sending them flying away, while she neared him. They threw him furious glances, but shot away to chase other decoys and fight other protectors.

She shot out another spell—a painful hex—at him, but he blocked with ease.

They dueled, spells flying, as well as curses and cussing from Civia that would have surprised a sailor's monkey of its diversity.

But then, the burning in her chest spiked, and she cried out…

The night—full of sorrow, fury, danger, dueling, and fallen enemies—blurred before her and her eyes fluttered shut. Civia lost concentration and began to plummet as her shreds of consciousness were snatched away…

**

* * *

A/N: For some clarification on the quote—I know more than one reader will be wondering why I chose it, so here it is. The song is 'Bring Me to Life', by Evanescence. The singer feels dead inside—like Civia, who feels so numb because of the shock of the loss of Albus and the pain of Severus' betrayal. Seeing her, as she puts it, '****ex…well, ex-something-or-other…' really "brings her to life", but knocking out of her sorrow, replacing it with her fury and hatred of him, and her determination to further protect those she loves. **

**The previous chapter, where Civia is rather…numb, is necessary to show her reaction and emotional frame. Betrayal is something that cuts directly to her heart. She lost almost everything she cared about sixteen years ago because of Pettigrew's betrayal. She's an extremely loyal person, as well, so being betrayed by someone she trusted so irrevocably … I can't imagine the pain she feels because of that.**


	3. Regrets

**Chapter 3**

"_**Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.**__**"**_

**~ Sydney Smith**

* * *

"…Civia? _Civia_—can you hear me?" a voice demanded sternly…a familiar voice. "_Civia_—wake up!"

"…Minerva?" she croaked weakly. "…what happened?"

Exhaustion filled her. She felt like she had no energy left at all, like she had run the entire way from Privet Drive to Godric's Hollow.

"Thank goodness!" the Transfiguration Mistress gasped. "You-Know-Who's spell caused you to pass out…I don't know what it did. But when you fell unconscious, one of the others must have seen and spelled you to slow your fall—thank Merlin they did! You landed in the garden of the safe house."

Civia glanced around and, sure enough, she was in the living room of her home in Godric's Hollow. She hadn't been here in years…not since James and Lily had…

"When does our portkey leave?" she asked, flicking a strand of hair from her eyes—her own hair, long and curly.

The Headmistress pointed to a dead tree limb beside the sofa. "In thirty seconds." Civia nodded and shakily stood. Her friend put an arm around her shoulders, offering support as they grasped the branch.

After a moment, it glowed blue and there was a tugging sensation behind her navel, before she felt like she was spinning uncontrollably…

"_He's lost—_"

Whoever was speaking at the Burrow was silenced as the two women landed in the garden, and Civia almost collapsed from her lack of energy, had it not been for Minerva's support.

Harry shot forward to her, followed by the others. "What happened?"

"Leech," she got out. Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he looked to the Headmistress for clarification.

"You-Know-Who hit her with an Energy-Leeching Curse," she said, "Boys, get her into the house!"

"'m fine," she said, but nevertheless, Harry and Remus lifted her off her feet and swiftly but carefully took her into the sitting room and placed her onto a sofa. Across the room, George laid on the other couch, her ear missing, with a clean hole in its place. He looked at her, concerned, as the others filed in.

"What happened, Civia?" Harry asked.

She looked at them all in the eyes, one by one before she said thickly, "Mad-Eye's dead."

Everyone froze, as Minerva explained what they'd seen. Sorrow filled her heart for the loss of another friend in so little time…

Then, Civia wearily explained their flight. "…he was going after Kingsley and Hermione…I disarmed a Death Eater, and they summoned Tom…he shot out a Killing Curse, but missed. He wasn't happy….someone hit me with the curse—I didn't see who…Voldemort disappeared, to chase someone else…"

She paused, "Then I saw…" she swallowed, "Snape. He cursed George—cut off his ear—and I…I couldn't help myself. I jumped off the thestral and went at him."

"Jumped on what?" demanded Remus.

Her face flushed, but she muttered, "Nothing."

"Nothing as in none-of-your-business, or nothing as in _nothing_?" asked Fred curiously.

The corners of her lips twitched upwards. "_Nothing,_ nothing… just an ability I picked up recently."

"You can fly—like Voldemort?" asked Harry, boggled.

She nodded slightly. "It's not a Dark Magic, just an ancient, long-forgotten one. But anyways, I went at the ba—" she broke off, shooting a glance at her students, before continuing, minding her language mean while, "—er, traitor…"

She explained what happened, before pausing and asking, "Which of you helped me?"

"What do you mean, dear?" asked Molly worriedly.

"When I was falling—someone cast _Arresto Momentum_, to slow my fall…" she trailed off, looking to each of them, who all one by one shook their heads.

Remus furrowed his brow. "Who could it have been then—maybe you did accidental magic, Civia?"

She shook her head stubbornly, but the effect was ruined as she yawned loudly. Molly tutted, "Sleep, Civia. That's the effects of the curse—you should have slept immediately. Now, Harry, Remus, can you put her in a bedroom for now, to rest?"

"'m fine here," she murmured, rapidly slipping away into unconsciousness.

Her last final thought was of her regret of not finishing off the damned traitor…

* * *

**AN: Because this is so short, please proceed directly to Chapter 4, "Bearing Gifts"**


	4. Bearing Gifts

**Chapter 4**

"_**Change always comes bearing gifts."**_

**~Price Pritchett**

* * *

On Harry's birthday, everyone was cheerful and happy, despite the dark situation the Wizarding World was in.

Because Bill and Fleur's wedding was so close, her parents and sister were present. Hagrid, Lupin, Tonks, and all of the Weasleys were present for Harry's birthday dinner.

But as everyone waited for Arthur to arrive, not one person expected his Patronus to come beforehand, bearing the message: "Minister of Magic coming with me."

Civia had stiffened instantly, remembering his only meeting before with Harry and she.

"We shouldn't be here," Remus said instantly, "Harry—I'm sorry—I'll explain another time—"

"Take care," Civia said, clasping their hands in hers, giving them a significant look, before they ran to the fence, climbed over it, and vanished.

Molly was bewildered. "The Minister—but why? I don't understand—"

Neither did Civia, but only one thing could bring the Minister to meet with, surely, Harry.

Then Arthur came into view, with the slightly limping form of Rufus Scrimgeour beside him. As they drew closer, it was obvious that the Minister had not been spared the stresses of the war: his hair was streaked with even more grey than before and he looked older, scraggly and thin. Civia almost felt sorry for him.

_Almost._

The Minister's eyes paused over her, taking her appearance in. It struck her that, just as he looked more worn to her, Civia herself must look subtly older, thinner, more worn as well, in comparison to her cheerful December holidays.

"Sorry to intrude," he said, "Especially as I can see I'm gate-crashing a party." He looked to Harry. "Many happy returns."

"Thanks," Harry replied, tensely.

"I'd like a word with you," his eyes found Civia again, "as well as your aunt and Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger."

"Us? Why us?" asked Ron, obviously surprised.

Civia replied first. "Let me guess," she said, eyes on Scrimgeour, "The Will of Albus Dumbledore."

There was a quiet collective breath.

"I shall tell you that when we are someplace more private. Is there such a place?" he asked Molly.

Contemplating what her murdered friend could have bequeathed them, she reluctantly followed Scrimgeour into the sitting room and, as the others sat down on the various sofas and chairs, remained standing behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

"I have some questions for the three of you, and I think it would be best if we do it individually. If you three," he pointed at Harry, Civia, and Hermione, "can wait upstairs, I will start with Mr. Weasley."

"We're not going anywhere," said Harry, and the others nodded vigorously. "You can speak to us together or not at all."

The Minister set Harry a cold, appraising look, obvious debating his answer. "Very well then, together," he replied.

"As Professor Potter said, I am here about Albus Dumbledore's will," he explained. Civia's students exchanged surprised looks. "A surprise, apparently! You were not aware he left you anything?"

"A-all of us?" asked Ron, "Me and Hermione too?"

"Yes, all of—"

But Harry interrupted. "Dumbledore died over a month ago. Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?"

Civia closed her eyes, disgusted with the Ministry's actions, as she listened to Hermione and Scrimgeour go back and forth. The knowledge that a month had already passed weighed down on her mind heavily.

"Would you say you were close to Professor Dumbledore, Ronald?" the Minister eventually asked.

"Me? Not—not really…It was always Harry who…"

He faltered as he saw the others' warning looks.

"If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions—his magical instruments and other personal effects were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?"

"I…dunno," Ron admitted. "I…when I say we weren't close…I mean, I think he liked me…"

"You're being modest, Ron," interrupted Hermione. "Dumbledore was very fond of you."

Even Civia knew this was stretching the truth to breaking point, but luckily Scrimgeour didn't seem to be listening. From his cloak, he brought out a drawstring pouch from which he produced a scroll of parchment, which he unrolled and read aloud.

"'_The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore'_ …Yes, here we are…. _'To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.'_"

Scrimgeour pulled out the object from the pouch, and Civia felt another wave of sorrow in her heart at the memories it brought of the First War. He gave it to Ron, who turned it over in his hands, looking stunned.

"That's a very valuable object," the Minister explained. "It may even be unique. Certainly it is of Dumbledore's own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?"

The youngest Weasley boy shook his head, not knowing the answer. Civia did, and felt tears in her eyes. She remembered his explanation of its uses from so long ago.

"_It can put out or give light, and also help one find their way if they are lost or have left._"

"Dumbledore must have had thousands of students," Scrimgeour continued, "Yet the only ones he remembered in his will are you four. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator, Mr. Weasley?"

"Put out lights, I s'ppose," Ron said with a shrug. "What else could I do with it?"

The Minister stared at him with narrowed eyes for a moment before looking down at the Will, and continuing. "_'To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard,_ in the hope she will find it entertaining and instructive_."

Civia watched, again, with sadness as Albus' copy of the book was passed to Hermione, who also had tears in her eyes, and Scrimgeour tried to pry information from them.

Then, his gaze turned to her. "_'To Professor Civia Athena Potter, I bequeath the books in my personal library, in hopes of her continuing on in her trail of academic greatness, and also my familiar Fawkes, if he allows it, as a reminder of the values of faith and loyalty.'_"

Civia's hand was over her mouth, tears distorting her vision, though she did not miss the flare of brilliant crimson and gold flames mid-air before her, from which Fawkes appeared and landed gently on her shoulder. He gave a soft trill, looking to her in concern.

Shakily, she stroked his brilliant plumage, both in sorrow and gratitude. "Thank you, Fawkes," she whispered.

Scrimgeour fiddled with something in the bag before producing a small wooden box the size of her palm and laying it in her hand. "His personal library," he explained, "All shrunken down and neatly packed. Professor, would _you_ say you were close to Dumbledore?"

She paused, then nodded, sitting down in a chair to Harry's left. "Yes, I should think so. He was a good friend of mine, since the First War, when we were both fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He was a father and grandfather to me, more so than my blood father or any of my family. He knew me better than either of my parents did, put together, and he offered me a job that allowed me to get to know my nephew. For that, I shall always in his debt."

"On a side note, Professor, I've meant to ask you, would you say you were close to Severus Snape?"

Civia was on her feet in a second, wand out and pointed at the Minister with a look of cold hatred on her face. "That, _Minister_, is where I draw the line!"

"Were you?" he persisted.

She drew a deep breath, cheeks crimson in anger, but sheathed her wand. When she spoke, her words dripped in venom and barely constrained hatred. "He and I were colleagues, and we were both Potions Masters. We had a lot in common." Civia's rare-hued eyes flicked away, her anger draining, hurt and betrayal replacing it. "I thought he and I were friends, and…I will admit, I thought he and I were closer than just friends."

"You were seeing each other?"

Her eyes went to him, dislike in her gaze. "Not really. There was no time for it, with our duties as professors. We were…more than friends…and I thought he might eventually court me."

"But?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "What more do I have to say, _Rufus_?" she spat. "I liked him as more, but he was using me to gain confidence, to convince those unsure about his loyalties that he was only a spy of us. He used me, and betrayed me the night he killed Albus!"

"But were you…physically intimate?"

She froze, eyes cold as ice, though her cheeks were red hot. "Never. Now either continue reading that damn Will, or continue on this subject and get cursed into next month!"

His eyes narrowed, but he continued on with the Will, and on to argue with Harry.

But the instant he drew his wand on Harry, Civia leapt to her feet, shoving her nephew behind her and her wand to Scrimgeour's throat. Her voice was a silky whisper, danger in every word. "Don't give me a reason to curse you, Rufus, because you know if I do, you'll be in St. Mungo's for a month."

"Potter may wear that scar like a crown, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It's time he learned some respect!"

"It's time you earned it," Harry said darkly.

There was a thunder of footsteps as Molly and Arthur hurried into the room, with the rest of their children tarrying behind in the hall.

"We—we thought we heard—" Molly began, alarmed.

"—raised voices," Arthur finished.

"It—it was nothing," muttered Scrimgeour, stepping back from Civia's raised wand. To Harry, he growled, "I…regret your attitude. You seem to think that the Ministry does not want what you—what Dumbledore—desired. We ought to be working together."

Harry raised his fist, showing the silvery scars from the accursed Blood Quill. "I don't like your methods, Minister. Remember?"

The Minister's face hardened and he turned and left without another word.

Molly said, "He's gone!" They all went back to the garden, and Civia nearly collapsed into her chair, face buried in her hands, trying to stop the tears that had long since been flowing.

As Harry explained when he'd wanted, and the trio's bequeathed items were passed around.

Later, after a hasty chorus of "Happy Birthday" and gulping down cake, the party broke up. The Potions Mistress was curled up in a chair in the living room.

The trio had been heading upstairs, but Harry paused and came to her side and sat down, with his best friends beside him. "Civia…why was Scrimgeour so interested in you and Snape?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't even know how he heard about…"

"You and Professor Snape?" Hermione finished softly. Civia nodded.

Harry looked uncomfortable. "Why didn't you tell me that you and…_him_ were…together?"

She sighed, brushing away tears. "Oh, Harry. I may not have known you as long as I'd like, but I know you well enough to know you'd have hunted him down and try to kill him. Originally…I didn't even think it'd happen. I just thought it would be nice to be able to talk about potions with someone who understood. He didn't like me at first, as I was James' twin. I think Voldemort told him to befriend me to get information from me, and gain the Order's trust. Slowly…we got closer. We weren't exactly…together. Like I told the Minister, there wasn't much time for that. But I think…had there been…we might have."

She fell silent for a moment, heart heavy. "I can't…I can't describe this. I cared for him more than you'd think. And to have him betray us and kill Albus…That's losing two dear friends in one fell swoop—one to death, the other to Voldemort. I know you three never like Snape, but I know you felt similarly about Dumbledore as I did—a grandfather to you. He was more my father than my parents ever could have been. He was my confidant and friend, my employer and mentor. He helped me many times in my life, and I could not have repaid him enough, ever. He helped me find you," she said to Harry with a soft smile, but barely hid the wince as a traitorous portion of her mind added:

_And Severus._


	5. Captured

**Chapter 5**

**

* * *

AN: Some of you had questions regarding why Scrimgeour interrogated Civia about her relationship with Snape. **

**The Minister was doing what he always does-nosing in business not entirely his own. He heard of Civia and Severus' closeness and couldn't help but nosing in. Scrimgeour means well, but he goes about it entirely wrong. He's concerned that Civia would be a risk, and possibly have a lasting weakness for Severus-those pose a weakness in Hogwarts. **

**As to whom tipped the Minister off, I'll tell you it was a Death Eater hidden amongst the Ministry who tipped him off.**

**As far as he's concerned, she could be the weak link that may bring down Hogwarts...**

**But, SPOILER: Scrimgeour will not be seen in this fic again. He may be mentioned, but he'll not appear again. You're about to find out why:**

* * *

"_**To be a prisoner means to be defined as a member of a group for whom the rules of what can be done to you, of what is seen as abuse of you, are reduced as part of the definition of your status.**__**"**_**  
**~ **Catharine MacKinnon**

**

* * *

The Next Day**

"_The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming._"

The second the silvery lynx disappeared, Civia leapt to her feet. Her eyes found Hermione, who was beside her.

"_Go!_" she ordered immediately. "Get Ron and Harry! Get to Grimmauld Place—it should be safe. Go—now!"

The girl nodded and hurried away but called over her shoulder, "_Be safe!_"

Immediately, Civia was calling for her fellow Order members as cloaked and masked figures appeared amidst the wedding guests—guests were disapparating, terrified—

The protective wards on the Burrow had broken. Remus and Tonks were shouting protective charms, as well as Arthur, who was trying to find all his family in the crowd…Spells were flying—but she didn't know if they were protective or something far more sinister…

From her peripheral vision, she watched as Harry, Ron, and Hermione disapparated…

The guests had gone now, leaving only Order members, Weasleys, and Delacours. The families were grouped together near the house, and only Arthur, Remus, Tonks, and Civia parrying spells from the cloaked figures.

She could see who they were, despite the masks. Some were Ministry officials—Aurors or members of the Magical Law Enforcement office—but most were Death Eaters, all of whom were converging towards Civia.

The Potions Mistress was surrounded by the eight of them, barely managing to duck and dodge and weave through their spells. There were shouts and screams from the family in the Burrow, and she heard Tonks scream something…

Civia turned to see what happened, praying that no one was hurt—

There were simultaneous shouts around her of "_Stupefy!_" and she was hit by a spell—or was it more than one?—in the back. Pain flowed through her for one excruciating moment as she collapsed, before everything went black.

* * *

When Civia woke, she knew it would be better to remain unconscious instinctively, but sat up anyways, though with difficulty. Thick cords were wrapped around her wrists, ankles, knees, and torso. Her back ached terribly, pain echoing through it from the effect of the Stunners.

She was on the floor, of a posh-looking, extravagant home…Malfoy Manor, she guessed by the minor details of the décor. Surrounded completely by a circle of Death Eaters and the head Death Eater himself, Civia did not take long to figure out _why_ her instincts told her to play dead.

"Ah, our guest awakens," observed Voldemort. Wisely remaining silent, the Potions Mistress glared fiercely. "No thanks for your kind treatment?" he asked, eyes glinting malevolently.

"I would truly hate to see how you treat regular prisoners, then," Civia remarked in a mutter.

To himself, Voldemort nodded, as if having confirmed something.

"To Hogwarts," he said. Stepping forwards, he gripped her right shoulder by cold, spiderlike hands that made Civia shiver in disgust, right before she felt the familiar compressing sensation.

Unceremoniously dropped to the floor upon arriving at their destination, she let out a hiss at the sharp pain from the impact.

"Severus, you recall your…request, do you not?"

"Yes."

At that voice, Civia's head shot up in shock, mouth agape. It _was_ Snape, seated at Albus' desk. They were in the Headmaster's Office of Hogwarts. Behind the large desk, Albus' portrait was asleep.

The traitor's obsidian eyes were on her, a glint in their depths, despite his detached mask.

"She was captured trying to keep the Aurors and some of my Death Eaters from the _Weasley_ home after the takeover was a success," Voldemort explained, with an air of amusement, "I have decided you will be in charge of her."

"Thank you, my Lord, it is an honor to do as you say," Snape said, with a respectful bow of his head. "What shall I do with her?"

"As you planned," Voldemort planned with a lipless smirk at the tied up woman, "Whatever you wish, Severus, though I expect improvements. The contract we agreed upon is here. She is to continue teaching Potions for now. You will have her under your control soon. Keep her on a tight leash for now…that should prove enjoyable for you," he added with a smirk.

The other, surrounding Death Eaters laughed at the innuendo, though Snape silenced them with an icy glare. Civia glared as well, trying to figure out what was going on. "What are you talking about?" she demanded coldly.

Voldemort looked at her, amused, and said, as if speaking to a toddler, "Why, your marriage of course."

"No," she whispered, in shock, frozen. All the blood drained from her face. They couldn't mean…

"Oh yes," the Dark Lord replied smirking, like a cat that caught the mouse.

Indignation filled her. "You can't just force me to marry some Death Eater!" she spat, struggling fiercely against her restraints, mentally casting useless charms that her bindings had obviously been warded against.

"Actually," Voldemort remarked coolly, "I can.

"You have a choice, Miss _Potter_," he sneered her surname, "You can make life easy and sign the marriage contract, or you can _not _sign the contract. Should you not, I shall take you into the rest of the castle, gather up the first ten people I find, and I will kill them in the most painful manner possible before your eyes."

Civia's face turned desperate, pleading. The only people in the castle, outside the office, were the staff—her friends, her colleagues, the ones who had treated her like family.

"No!" she exclaimed, earnest…defeated. "I—I'll sign it…"

Waving his wand, her bonds dissolved into air and she found a quill in her hand. Shakily, she signed the parchment where Voldemort indicated. _Civia Potter_.

The parchment rolled up my magic and vanished with a small puff of smoke. Voldemort smirked mockingly to her and announced with exaggerated flourish, "May I now present Mr. and Mrs. Severus Snape."

The entire crowd of Death Eaters erupted into jeers, snickered, laughter, and sneers. Civia buried her face in her hands, raven locks hiding her face as the Death Eaters disapparated. Before he vanished, however, Voldemort said to Snape, "I expect your marriage to be consummated tonight."

She sobbed after he disappeared, having sunk to her knees on the floor. Jumping as she felt a hand on her shoulder, she moved as if to get away, but sunk even lower to the ground, giving up.

Civia sobbed for a long while.

Everything was falling apart. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the run, and Merlin-knew where, hopefully Grimmauld Place… The Order was surely in hiding. The Ministry was apparently being run by Death Eaters. Voldemort was winning.

She had married one of his Death Eaters, but not just _any_ Death Eater—his second in command, his most trusted servant, his spy, and Albus Dumbledore's murderer.

True, she had been forced to, but it was still _marriage_.

To be honest, Civia never expected herself to marry. She didn't expect for anyone to even find her moderately attractive. But, then Severus had come along, tricking her, deceiving her into believing he truly cared for her, when he was only using her to get further into the confidences of the Order.

After a while, she felt strong arms helping her stand up. "Civia, come. You should rest."

Unthinkingly, she allowed him to lead her away, until she found herself looking at a large and inviting four-poster bed.

"No!" she exclaimed, suddenly aware of what was happening. "No, Snape—you can't—"

He silenced her by pressing his lips to hers. She struggled against it—too horrified about what had befallen her to even think that this was the man who she'd loved months ago.

Snape did not let her run or escape. He held her tiny wrists in one hand, with the other around her waist. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to push him away.

"Civia, you must stop," he said softly.

The tenderness in his words brought back memories of the year that already ended, back in June, when Albus was killed, memories of a time when Civia felt…not completely happy, but whole, with Harry and he both—her only blood and her only love—, memories of a time when she was loved and cherished.

She halted her fighting, nearly crumpling under the weight of the situation and hopelessness. Civia knew it was hopeless. She was married to the enemy, the spy, the traitor…the one she had loved and still, somehow, loved, despite the pain he had wrought upon her. It could be worse, she thought darkly, Rabastan Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, or other brutes. Snape would not physically harm her much.

The door shut behind them.

* * *

**A/N: So... PLOT TWIST MUCH?**

**LOL. I just know a lot of you are going to review and rant about it. Bwa ha ha ha. I can't wait to hear it all. **

**Like I said in the story description, this fic (Part 2) was inspired by Marriage Law fics. I couldn't come up with another way Voldemort would allow her remain at Hogwarts because, unlike McGonagall and the rest of the staff, she was very clear about her loyalties. I knew Voldemort wouldn't let her just stay there and undermine Snape. It would be unwise for her to go into hiding because...well, that'd be boring. Thus came this idea-a way for Civia to remain at Hogwarts, a way for Voldemort to keep an eye on her, and a way for her and Severus to interact ... a LOT.**

**So, please-review. **

**Rant.**

**Laugh.**

**Roll your eyes.**

**Scream at my stupidity.**

**Praise my brilliance. ;)**

**Do whatever.**

**DO IT FOR MY BIRTHDAY! MY SWEET SIXTEEN!**

**Legally, in the US, I can now, as my dear friend Ann Marie told me, be tried as an adult AND get married with parental consent. Two isn't likely, and I HOPE 1 never comes up...**

**So, write me a review for my birthday? Please?**


	6. Light in the Darkness

**Chapter 6**

"_**A friend is a spot of light when all else you can see is darkness."**_

**~ (Author unknown; loose quote from my memory)**

* * *

When Civia woke, she was very relieved to see she was the first of the newly wedded couple to be awake. She practically ran into the adjacent bathroom after extracting herself from the tangle of limbs she'd woken to find herself in.

It had been a grateful discovery that she'd made when she found her things already present.

After a swift, quiet shower, she had noticed something she'd overlooked at first.

A soft purple bathrobe was folded up for her on the counter—the same shade of violet as her eyes she realized with a start. But then said eyes landed on the small, almost unnoticeable black velvet box on top of the folded robe.

With trembling hands, she opened it and was not surprised that it was a wedding ring, but rather, how much she liked it.

The band was pure gold, thin and delicate looking. The diamond was large, but not ostentatiously huge. On each side were two brilliantly shined gems. Next to the center gem were two smaller, circularly cut sapphires—both a matching, shining darker shade of blue. Beside the sapphires were similarly cut emeralds—darkly and exquisitely green. The gold of the band was slightly worn, showing that it was an antique, though a meticulously cared for one.

The ring was beautiful.

She wanted to pick it up and chuck it into the Black Lake for the Merpeople, to throw it from the Astronomy Tower and make it explode in a dazzling array of fireworks, to get a hammer and smash it to bits and throw the remaining dust into the sea.

Not because of what it was, but because of what it represented.

Almost unwillingly, Civia slipped it onto her left ring finger. Sighing in despair, she finished buttoning up her black frock coat and slipped out of the rooms, careful not to wake Snape, but then ran as fast as she could for her friends.

* * *

It was breakfast time, apparently, judging how all her colleagues were already present in the Great Hall, though the chatting was soft and melancholy.

None had expected her, apparently. Minerva was the first to see her. "Civia?" she exclaimed loudly, shocked, rising to her feet. The others' heads shot up, staring, and all discussion halted.

"What are you doing here?" she continued, coming down from the Head Table to meet her, relief obvious on her face, though worry had some hold. "I thought you would be hiding after…yesterday's events!"

"But what is the point in hiding if they've already caught you?" Civia asked sorrowfully, and the tears started.

"Calm down now, Civia," her mentor said soothingly, as she helped her to the Head Table, "It's alright."

As she nearly collapsed into an empty chair beside the now-_former_ Headmistress, Civia simply said, "I wish it were that simple, Minerva, I do."

"What happened?" asked Filius softly.

"I was caught, trying to keep them from the Burrow," she explained, eyes on her hands, "Then…_this _happened."

At their confused looks, she could only lift up her left hand.

The uproar was unexpectedly loud and furious.

"Who was it, Civia?" asked Minerva tightly, holding said woman's hand closer to inspect the ring, "I swear I'll kill them!"

But a voice interrupted her before she could even begin, though it explained everything.

"I will thank you, _Minerva_, to unhand my wife."

The noise, once again, fell silent and all movement ceased. Eyes went from him to Civia, who could only nod, ashamed. Snape walked, robes bellowing behind menacingly, to the Headmaster's ornate chair. Was it fate or chance, Civia wondered, that she happened to have seated herself in the chair next to his.

Seating himself and loading his plate, Civia sat in the seat, rigid. "Eat," he instructed quietly, emotionless.

Her eyes flashed dangerously to his. Standing, she muttered, "Not hungry."

Feeling the eyes of all in the Great Hall on her back, Civia stormed out of there, outer sapphire robes billowing in her wake, giving her a dignified, powerful appearance that she was grateful for. It would not do for _him_ to see her tears.

Leaning against the wall right beside the door, trying to hide her tears, there were numerous sounds from inside as soon as she would have been out of earshot, had she continued. Several shouts, and a very good number of _bang_s like many had shot out spells.

"Bastard!" shouted one—Filius, she realized.

"How could you, Snape?" from another—Aurora.

Their anger gave her a small smile. While her brother and sister-in-law were dead, her nephew on the run, Albus assassinated, Voldemort in change, Death Eaters at Hogwarts, Snape as Headmaster, and her married to said Death Eater, it did her heart a world of good to know she was not alone in this. She had allies, friends.

_She wasn't alone._

Somehow, just the thought cleared her mind enough for her to calm down and think. She was a Pureblood—she had known about marriage contracts since her childhood. And most contracts included the clause of the wife producing at least one male heir.

Civia lept up and nearly ran to her private potions lab in the dungeons.

She'd worked long and hard on a potion that was perfect for this situation.

After muttering the password to the portrait, she rushed inside and set up her work station, then hurried to the supply closet. She'd worked on and perfected this potion all last year. Now she had a use for it—the best possible use she could have imagined. It was the perfect potion for this situation.

Now, Civia was just thankful it took less than fifteen minutes.

Moving quickly, she poured the seven ounces of concentrated pomegranate juice into the cauldron, turning on the heat. Swiftly, the liquid was boiling, and she was adding two ounces of dried Nettle, then stirring—clockwise twice, counterclockwise once, repeat, until the brew changed to a deep crimson.

Having already sliced the leaves as the brew boiled, Civia stirred in the seven sliced leaves of Praevenio Gravida, a rare magical plant whose leaves were eaten long ago by witches who wished to prevent having children.

While the potion simmered for exactly seven minutes, Civia had gotten her silver knife. Carefully, she crushed the three Sopophorous beans with the flat side of the blade. Once seven minutes was over, she poured in the juice of the three beans.

Vigilantly, Civia stirred the potion seven times counterclockwise, then added the seven fresh pomegranate seeds.

After allowing it to stew for five minutes, one pinch of powdered unicorn horn was sprinkled in. When the mixture suddenly changed to a light sky blue, Civia stirred in a sprig of fresh peppermint.

Removing the cauldron from heat, she watched as the potion emitted wispy, silver vapor. Then, she poured in into several small vials to be stored for future use and made a wax seal on each of them, save one, and put all but one into the supply closet.

After magically cleaning the counter and cauldron, Civia paused holding it up to the light, admiring the potion. It was now almost clear, though it had a silvery tinge and still emitted the vapor.

This was a year's research and work, and was finally being used, though the Potions Mistress was not happy to be brought to this.

Just as she was about to drink it, she heard the sound of rushed footsteps coming into the laboratory.

It was Snape.

Before he could stop her, she downed the potion and swallowed.

A rush of pain to her lower abdomen took her breath away in a gasp as she doubled over. Vaguely, she registered him exclaim "Civia!" Her eyes fluttered shut as another wave of pain rolled through her abdomen. Sudden weakness took over, and she collapsed, though someone—Snape—caught her.

The world blacked out before her eyes.

**

* * *

**

**AN: If there are any artists out there interested in drawing Civia or anything else in the story, please contact me! I can't pay you or anything…but I'd love to see what some of you imagine her to look like. I'm trying to get some artistic friends to draw her for me…but no luck yet…so if you do draw her, I would be eternally grateful and thanking you!**

**PS- Thanks to all of my reviewers! **


	7. Consequences

**Chapter 7**

"_**Any intelligent woman who reads the marriage contract, and then goes into it, deserves all the consequences.**__**"  
**_**Isadora Duncan**

* * *

Poppy was hovering over her, muttering unhappily to herself, when Civia woke. The matron gave her a disproving look. "_What_ did you drink, Civia?"

The Potions Mistress colored, sitting up. She was in the Hospital Wing. "A potion of mine—it caused a bit of temporary pain as it took effect."

"And?" she prompted.

"And, I think it worked." As she fell silent, Poppy gave her a glare, and Civia sighed. "Fine. It was a potion I created to—" Her voice's volume dropped to a whisper so only Poppy could hear. "—prevent what the Dark Lord wants. He arranged the marriage contract I had to sign. One of the clauses will surely be that I provide an heir. I couldn't let that happen. I'd rather die than bring a child into this world and hand it over to You-Know-Who. Snape would never allow me to take a Contraceptive Potion every day—I had to do something, and I did. I created a potion to prevent me from being turned into a pureblood broodmare. Until I take a specially formulated antidote that only I know I'll not be fertile."

"When did you start working on that?" the matron asked curiously. "It must have taken ages to perfect!"

Civia nodded. "I was working on it for the better part of last school year, for the Order. It was originally intended for the female members who were at risk of being captured and attempted to be made into broodmares for You-Know-Who."

"Like they tried to you," Poppy added. Civia nodded, paused, then asked, "How'd you find me?"

"I didn't." The matron's voice turned icy. "The _Headmaster_ did. He carried you in, shouting, in a right state, he was. I had to make him leave."

The Potions Mistress looked doubtful, but didn't reply.

"Well, you should be fine to leave now, Civia, but," the matron paused, lowering her voice, "if he hurts you, find me immediately. The Death Eaters may be in control of Hogwarts but I'll be damned before they hurt my charges—students or staff alike!"

When she opened the door to leave the infirmary, the day only got worse as she saw her _husband_ waiting impatiently, foot tapping.

He was upon her instantly as he saw her.

"What the hell did you drink?" Snape nearly snarled, almost—_concerned _—about the answer.

Fury rose in her. He had no right to worry about her! Not after everything he had done. But, in a way, it made sense. If she died or something terrible happened to her, Voldemort wouldn't be happy with him . . . Ah. Now she saw why he'd been concerned. He thought she had drunk a poison to kill herself.

How dramatic and utterly Gryffindor.

In honor of her new _husband_, she smirked in a very Snape-fashion and simply replied, "Figure it out yourself, _Husband_," she snarled the title before stalking away…

…or trying to.

He grabbed her arm as she brushed past, turning her around to face him. "It would do you well," he said in a low, dangerously silky tone, "to listen to me now. I do not particularly care if you are hurt, but it would reflect badly on me—especially to the Dark Lord. You will not enter situations where you could be hurt, you will not purposely cause harm to yourself, and you will not attempt to kill yourself. And if I find you do, I will personally hurt you."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose?" asked Civia dryly with a quirk of her eyebrows.

His eyes flashed dangerously, but he released her, and she drew away instantly. "For the record," she called over her shoulder coldly, "It was not a poison I drank—and it is Professor Potter to _you_."

His eyes flashed angrily as he pulled her back once more. "I am Headmaster and I have the right to call any of my staff, including my wife, by whatever I choose, _Civia_."

* * *

She avoided him for the rest of the afternoon and evening. At first, she had stormed down to the dungeons, to her quarters—or where her quarters had been. Now, they had vanished, leaving only her private laboratory behind—probably caused by the _headmaster_.

So, her plans to sleep away from her _husband_ went—as muggles say—down the drain. Any to all traces of pleasantness drained as well.

Anti-Fertility Potion aside, she'd be damned if she allowed that monster to touch her again.

If she left the castle, she'd just be brought right back, no doubt. Seeking solace for the night outside the castle was useless. All the previously unused quarters had vanished apparently, as well, or were occupied by some rubbish in storage or another.

Which lead her to where she was.

Timidly, she knocked on the door. A few moments later, a slightly confused Minerva opened the door in a tartan dressing gown with her square spectacles slightly tilted to one side and hair in a slightly messy plait.

"Civia—what's wrong? Are you alright—?"

"I'm fine, Minerva," she said quietly, with a tired smile. "I, well, I hate to impose, but might I speak with you—er, in private?"

The Transfiguration teacher nodded, opening the door wider to allow the Potions Mistress to pass. Civia nodded gratefully and swiftly seated herself in one of the armchairs as Minerva drew her wand and lit the fireplace.

"What is it you wished to speak to me about? Oh, tea?" she asked.

Civia simply shrugged. "If you'd like. I think I should though." She paused as her colleague summoned a house-elf for tea. With a nod, she accepted the cup. "Thank you.

"Have you had a chance to speak with Poppy today?"

"Not since breakfast," Minerva replied.

The younger of the pair nodded ruefully. "Then you didn't hear about my trip to the hospital wing…" Swiftly, she explained, and then paused before continuing. "…It isn't uncommon in Pureblood marriage contracts to find a clause of the woman bearing at least one male heir. You-Know-Who did not leave it out, I'm sure. Even though I took that potion, Snape doesn't know, and so it won't stop him from trying. I—" her voice broke, "—I can't live with _that_—with him. Not after what he did. I can't go back there—with him. He's made the castle hide my former quarters from me, and all the other vacant rooms have vanished.

"I—I hate to impose, Minerva," she said, flushing, "But I—"

"Say no more, m'dear," the other said, patting her hand. "I don't have a guest room, but you can sleep here, Civia. I don't blame you for asking."

Both women stood, and Civia gave her godmother a hug. "Thank you. You know, if my parents did one thing right for me, it was choosing you as my godmother, you know, Minerva."

The other chuckled. "Yes, I am grateful as well…though it was a bit overboard to name you after me."

"It's only my middle name," Civia chuckled. "And I rather like Athena. It fits, if I do say so myself. The Greek goddess Athena's symbol was an owl, and what could be better for an owl Animagus?"

The older woman chuckled, but did not reply as she transfigured her sitting room couch into a bed for her goddaughter.

For someone who had been forced into a marriage with a Death Eater just days ago, Civia slept very well.

* * *

Well, it was very good sleep until she was woken up by a flashing fit of pain radiating through her body. It was like a mild Cruciatus Curse, radiating out from her left hand constantly.

She loudly cried out in pain before she could stop herself, and snatched her wand from its hidden pocket, but no one was in the room with her.

Merlin—the pain was terrible. Not quite like her insides were being shredded and coated in acid as in the Cruciatus, but rather it was like her was slowly, carefully being cut open.

"Minerva!" she called, doubled over from the pain.

Said witch soon came running from her room, glasses askew, wand lit and raised. "Civia! What's wrong?"

"Don't know!" the Potions Mistress gasped. "Pain! Everywhere…Infirmary!"

"Can you walk?"

Honestly, she wasn't sure, but she nodded resolutely anyways. Slowly, the Transfiguration teacher helped her to her feet and out the door as she sent out a few silvery Patronuses.

Eventually, they made it to the third floor, and were about to enter the Hospital Wing, when the sound of swift footsteps coming toward them made both stop. Minerva's wand was lit and raised, ready to defend her goddaughter, and Civia felt a rush of affection for the woman that was practically her mother.

"Snape!" Minerva suddenly spat, as the Death Eater himself walked forward into the light, eyes on Civia's still doubled over, gasping form.

"Minerva, return my wife to me now," he said a soft tone—soft, but dangerous.

"No way in hell," she spat in reply. "She's ill and needs to see Poppy."

Snape snorted. "No, she does not. The only thing she needs is to return with me."

"What?"

It hadn't been Minerva who'd spoken, but rather Civia, though it was weakly.

"It is in the marriage contract that you are to sleep in my—_our_—quarters nightly, unless you have my permission to do otherwise. The pain you're feeling is a side effect from trying to go against a legally binding contract," he explained emotionlessly.

"Damn," muttered Civia, stepping closer to him. "Well, thank you Minerva for your hospitality, anyways. Well, Snape, if we're both going to _our_ quarters, you had better help me along."

He put an arm around her shoulders to support her, but they hadn't gone far before he muttered, "This is ridiculous," and suddenly picked her up. In surprise, she gave a small shriek of shock. "What are you doing?"

"Taking our time only makes the pain worse," he explained as he briskly walked to _their_ quarters. "So, for your sake, we'd better hurry." Her paused and added snidely, "You know, you can't call me Snape. As it is, you are a Snape as well.

"Calling someone by their real name isn't going to hurt you."

She snorted. "Ask Voldemort if he agrees with that statement."

Once they reached their chambers, she practically collapsed onto their bed, and was shocked when the pain stopped instantly.

Lying down, she tried to pretend she was alone, though it was difficult when he lay down on the bed. Six months ago, she would have loved to be in this position—married to the man she had loved, sharing quarters with him, and laying inches from him. She could feel the heat from his body, and hear the soft sound of his breathing.

Instead, it was awkward, and uncomfortable, but both managed to fall asleep.


	8. The Bright Side

**Chapter 8 **

"_**Always look on the bright side of life."**_

**~ Monty Python**

**

* * *

AUGUST 2****ND**

**NUMBER TWELVE GRIMMAULD PLACE, LONDON:**

Harry barely made it to the bathroom in time, from where he'd been with Ron and Hermione after Mr. Weasley's Patronus message: "_Civia captured after several Stunners to the back. All others safe, do not reply, being watched._"

Bolting the door behind him with trembling hands, he grasped his pounding head and fell to the floor, then in an explosion of agony, he felt the rage that did not belong to him possess his soul, saw a long room lit only by firelight, and the giant blond Death Eater on the floor, screaming and writhing, and a slighter figure standing over him, wand outstretched, while Harry spoke in a high, cold, merciless voice.

"More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time . . . . You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure. . . . Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!"

A log fell in the fire: Flames reared, their light darting across a terrified, pointed white face…

And then the doors burst open, with several Death Eaters entering, a tied up, limp figure being brought in with them.

"This had better be important, Yaxley," he hissed, not bothering to pause Rowle's torture at the young Malfoy's hands.

"My Lord, we have captured one of the Order members who tried to protect the Weasley house when we invaded it."

"Enough, Draco," Harry said to the slight figure, who halted the Cruciatus Curse. Silence fell, broken only by Rowle's labored breathing.

"Who is it?"

Two Death Eaters behind Yaxley threw the bound, limp figure onto the floor between the group of Death Eaters and their master. The person landed heavily on the ground, still unconscious, with their familiar glasses askew on their pale face. Light from the fire threw the woman's petite, attractive features into sharp contrast.

"Civia Potter."

* * *

With a sense of emerging from deep water, Harry drew heaving breaths and opened his eyes.

He was spread-eagled on the cold black marble floor, his nose inches from one of the silver serpent tails that supported the large bathtub. He sat up. His aunt's gaunt and, even in unconsciousness, slightly pained face seemed burned on the inside of his eyes.

A wave of nausea rolled over him, and he leaned over the tub and retched.

Afterwards, he laid on the floor, unmoving, unable to think of anything but Civia's vulnerable face as she had fallen into Voldemort's clutches.

_

* * *

Dear Padfoot,_

_Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself. I'm enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course James thought it was so funny, says he's going to be a great Quidditch player but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going._

_We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us, Civia, and old Bathilda who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn't come, but the Order's got to come first, and Harry's not old enough to know it's his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell – also Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend. I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the news about the McKinnons; Civia and I cried all evening when we heard._

_Speaking of her, Civia is frequently dropping in these days, as she just finished her Apprenticeship, in case you haven't heard—she's officially a Potions Mistress! James was very proud, laughing and ruffling her hair, to her annoyance, but bragged that he had the most brilliant sister in the world. I can't disagree—she's more of a sister to me than Petunia. But I do think she's rather lonely; you know how reclusive she is. In a way, she rather reminds me of Severus, in our early Hogwarts years. (Not a word about him, Sirius!) But she adores Harry, and he just loves her. We should have named her Godmother too! _

_Bathilda drops in most days, she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore. I'm not sure he'd be pleased if he knew! I don't know how much to believe, actually because it seems incredible that Dumbledore—_

* * *

Harry had hardly slept that second night at Grimmauld, his aunt's face still stamped on the insides of his eyelids.

And then Remus arrived the next day, with not-so-good tidings.

"What happened to Civia?" Harry demanded worriedly, after several minutes of bad news.

A shadow covered the werewolf's face. "She's at Hogwarts. Minerva sent Tonks and me a Patronus, as well as the others, I presume." He paused, before explaining grimly the Potions Mistress's fate. "Apparently she was taken to You-Know-Who, who forced her to sign a marriage contract."

"_What_?"

"Huh?"

"Who—I'll kill them!"

Remus made a weary motion for them to quiet, before grimacing as he explained. "You won't like it. Thank Merlin it wasn't him…but it's nearly as bad. Apparently, he threatened her into signing it, giving her no choice. It was Snape."

Hermione's face lost all color as she covered her mouth with her hand in shock, tears coming to her eyes for Civia. Ron was frozen, mouth agape. Harry's face hardened, teeth clenching. "I'll kill him."

"Focus on You-Know-Who first, Harry," said the ex-DADA professor wearily. "Look on the up side—it could be much worse. Snape, cruel as he is, isn't one for bloody torture and rape. He prefers mind games and power, but not violence—he won't hurt her. We can only be thankful it wasn't one like Greyback or Lestrange."

All four shuddered at the thought. Greyback, the savage cannibalistic werewolf, or Rabastan Lestrange, who had an appetite to torture almost as much as his sister-in-law, but with blades rather than the Cruciatus.

"Severus won't hurt her, Harry," Remus said, trying to calm the boy. "He is protective of his things and those close to him. Though unwilling, Civia will be close to him, if in nothing more than name. And someone hurting his wife would reflect badly upon his ability to protect his things, as I'm sure the other Death Eaters would think of it."

Hermione spoke up. "You said she signed a marriage contract. I've read about old-fashioned pureblood marriage contracts, sometime ago…Most were arranged for the sake of producing pureblooded heirs, and there was usually a clause that included producing at least one heir…"

Harry's face went red. "If that bastard lays a hand on her I swear, I'll—"

But he was cut off by Remus's reply. "If that is the case, knowing Civia, she'll have done something to prevent it. I know she was working on an Anti-Fertility Potion last year—so a witch would only have to drink it once and, until the antidote was taken, she would be infertile—in case one of the women of the Order found themselves in this situation."

Then Ron spoke up wryly, a sad, bitter half-grin tugging at his mouth. "Harry, there's also the fact that she'd hex anyone's bits off before they touched her."


	9. Staff Changes

**Chapter 9**

"_**Hospitality is making your guests feel at home, even if you wish they were."**_

**~Author Unknown**

* * *

August passed both shockingly fast and excruciatingly slow for Civia Po—_Snape._

Fast in regards to the time she was with her colleagues, planning for the school year, and helping the Order. But it was painfully slow whenever in _their_ quarters or near _him_.

But September came none the less, along with the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ featuring the announcement of the new Headmaster.

And it also heralded the Carrow's arrival.

They arrived mid-day, when all the staff was in the Great Hall eating lunch.

Snape had made it very clear that Civia was to sit beside him during meals, directly to his left. To enforce this, he had forbidden the house-elves from serving her food unless in the Great Hall or under his consent, and had cursed all the other chairs in the Great Hall to zap her—like a small electric pulse—if she tried to sit in them. He was becoming even more of a pain in the arse.

There were only enough chairs at the table for its staff, so there were two empty seats to the Headmaster's right. Civia knew they would all be eating in their quarters had it not been for her, to offer some form of support.

They all made it through half of lunch without a single Death Eater. They were cheerful—the room filled with warmth and hope and friendship and camaraderie for the first time in what felt like years.

But then the immense oak doors opened, and the hall couldn't have been colder in an instant if a dementor had come in as the three Death Eaters strode in. All the staff froze, before slowly returning to their meals, silent.

Snape stopped in front of them, and spoke to them all loftily, "These are the Carrows. Amycus shall be the _Defense Against_," he sneered, "the Dark Arts. Alecto shall be teaching Muggle Studies."

There was a beat of shocked silence before the explosion of indignant, angry shouts and exclamations.

"Silence," hissed the Headmaster in a dangerously low voice, and hall was hushed. "I am Headmaster and I chose the teachers at this school. It would do you well to remember that."

To her left, Civia saw Minerva's lips pursing tightly, cold fury in her eyes.

"More like Voldemort chooses, if you ask me," the Potions Mistress retorted boldly, snappily.

The staff—her allies, that is—stilled, eyes on her in surprise.

"Amycus, Alecto, I presume you will remember Civia, my _wife_," Snape smirked as her emphasized his last word.

Said wife's lips pursed in distaste and disgust. "I'd say it's a pleasure…but I can't say that honestly, as I would rather be under the Cruciatus than here." She smiled, simpering, before standing and leaving without another word.

* * *

She didn't return from the Potions classroom for the rest of the day until time for the feast.

Before students arrived, she stood with the others away from the Death Eaters until the students were heading into the castle, at which time all the staff was seated, just as the doors opened and the students filed in. They were chatting, happy as you please as they sat down…until they looked up at the Head Table.

The shock and horror and fright on their faces struck a pang of sorrow in her chest. The looks some of them sent her made her feel helpless—the questioning, betrayed looks, sent to her, sitting at Snape's left hand.

She placed her elbows on the table and placed her forehead on her palms, her hands threading through her hair, cradling her head in her hands, eyes tracing the grains in the wooden table, trying to find some bright side to this…

And then, she realized something. During some of her conversations with the trio and Albus, they'd mentioned an organization called the DA—Dumbledore's Army. She had no doubt they would restart it. In their absence, it would most likely be lead by Ginny and Neville and Luna, probably…others too…

She could help them. The DA had been about learning Defense. She could help them learn, teach them—because Amycus sure as hell wasn't planning on it.

Civia was jolted from her thoughts as the traitor stood beside her, and the room fell silent—some out of fear and others out of curiosity of what the enemy would announce. She held her head high, with a sad but strong set of her jaw as she looked to Snape.

He smirked all the while as he doled out the annual announcements, before reaching the part that concerned her.

"…Finally: staff changes. Professor Amycus Carrow will be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, while his sister, Professor Alecto Carrow, will be our new Muggle Studies teacher. Both classes will be, as of now, mandatory for all years—"

Civia's jaw dropped, just the rest of the staff's had presumably.

"—and the Professors Carrow are to be Deputy Headmaster and Headmistress. They will both be in charge of discipline as well."

Murmurs and whispers filled the Great Hall.

Civia's violet eyes swept over the students. There was much less than last year—save Slytherin, which looked twice as big as any of the other Houses. Most students were in hiding or on the run: only those who could confirm their blood-status had stayed, while all Muggleborns had fled.

The Slytherins looked generally pleased with these developments, with few exceptions—all of which were hiding behind indifferent masks, glancing to each other.

"Finally," Snape said, drawing attention back to him, and the Potions Mistress felt like she wanted to sink through the floor like a ghost, knowing what was coming. Snape paused, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet, at which the Carrows snickered and the others glowered. "Our Potions Mistress is now Professor Civia _Snape_."

As he spoke—emphasizing her surname change—, she yanked her arm from his grasp, giving him a look of deepest loathing and disgust.

"Don't touch me, you bastard!" Civia spat softly, dangerously, one corner of her lip pulled back in a snarl, before she sat down.

A shocked silence followed his announcement, with many jaws dropping. From the Slytherin table, many laughs and jeers were heard from several Death Eaters' children, who already knew. The Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws were staring in shock and betrayal. She spotted Ginny, down far below, speaking lowly, with many leaning towards her, listening. In turn, they all spun to tell others, and soon enough, whatever Ginny had shared—presumably how the marriage had been forced—had spread to both the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

Thank Merlin for Ginny.

Then, the feast appeared, but Civia had no appetite. She stood, brushing past Snape, and turned to and left through the door behind the staff table. Said door was slammed shut behind her, surely echoing in the hall, but the Potions Mistress didn't care as she began heading to her classroom, to finish preparations for the next day.


	10. Love Before Hate

**Chapter 10**

_**"You have to love something before you can hate it."  
**_**— ****Nicholas Sparks**** (****The Last Song****)**

* * *

Civia's first class was with her seventh years, a double period with them. Originally, there had been twenty-two. Now, there were only seventeen—six Slytherins, five Ravenclaws, four Gryffindors, and two Hufflepuffs.

As she taught the lesson and supervised their brewing, sorrow weighed down her mind, every time she glanced at the single, empty table that could have seated her missing students.

Beside her desk, she had discovered that a house-elf had removed Fawkes's perch from Alb—_Snape_'s office and placed it next to her desk, as well as a small bag of cuttlebones placed on her desk that she knew Fawkes enjoyed gnawing on. Said phoenix was on the perch as she glanced to him, and he gave a soft, musical trill of encouragement.

The first time one of the students—Draco Malfoy, perhaps not quite exactly by accident—asked her a question, calling her _Madam Snape_.

She spun to face him, her expression as cold and hard and sharp as diamonds, her eyes twice such. "Never call me _Snape_ unless you want to be hexed." She looked to the rest of her class, who were staring at her, shocked and surprised. Civia sighed before addressing them through pursed lips. "I did not have a choice in marry that bas—" She caught herself in time, "—_man_." Then she added in a mutter, "Blasted, bloody Voldemort."

A shocked silence followed before they all went back to work, only speaking in soft whispers as she circled the room, checking her students' work in furious silence.

* * *

When the class ended, and her break period began, she had nearly collapsed into her chair, her elbows placed on her desk as she massaged her temples with her eyes closed, feeling a migraine coming on.

She hadn't noticed how most of her students had lingered in the back of the classroom, near the door, speaking in low tones. That is, Civia didn't notice until someone in front of her desk asked, "Are you alright, Professor?"

Jumping in surprise, it was obvious that she hadn't heard Neville come up, followed by several.

The Potions Mistress shook her head wearily. "No. No I am not," she replied heavily, before eying the others. "I presume these are the remnants of the DA?"

They all looked surprised, and Civia chuckled. "Come now. You can't have expected me not to have heard about your exploits. I've heard many things about you all…I presume there are more of you in other years, as well."

Neville nodded. "Yes, ma'am. But we wanted to know why you married Snape."

Her face tightened, her lips pursing, as she paused. "I will not tell you now—but I will tell you soon. Find a time for all the DA—_all of the members at Hogwarts_—and meet in the Room of Requirement. Once there, call for Fawkes," she motioned to the phoenix, who bobbed his head, "and he shall bring me as soon as I can. If I am unable to attend, he will send you one of his feathers, meaning you should all simply go on with dueling practice. Got all that? Good, now shoo! You have classes, and I need to go."

* * *

During her break, she transformed into her owl animagus form and flew out of the wards, which had been keyed to allow owls in and out for owl-post. High above the ancient castle, Civia reveled in the sweet sense of freedom, something she had not known in what felt like years.

When she returned to her classroom—five minutes to spare before her next class—Civia found it was not empty.

Snape was lounging in her desk chair, idly playing with a raven-feather quill . . . a quill he had given her mere months ago . . .

"How was your flight?" he asked lightly, dark eyes still on the quill in his hands.

"Decent," she replied sarcastically. "The weather was excellent."

A brief silence ensued, both eying the other critically. Finally, she spoke. "How could you, Severus?" the Potions Mistress whispered, voice hoarse with sudden sadness. "How could you betray us—Albus—the Order…me? I loved you—and you betray us. Why? Tell me why!" she said louder, body shaking in anger and grief as she tried to stifle her tears.

The Headmaster did not reply for a moment, merely stepping closer to her and cautiously enfolding her into his arms. Civia did not move, unsure, but rested her forehead on his chest.

It would be so easy now, she thought, just to draw her wand and kill him—for his betraying actions, his deceit, his spying. But the thought cause a sick taste in her mouth, and she recoiled from the idea.

Even if she could overcome the guilt, Voldemort would not allow her escape far.

"I cannot explain to you everything," he whispered, face buried in her erratic curls, lips resting on the top of her head. "The Dark Lord never intended for me to kill him. It was Draco's task—you know this. Narcissa and Bellatrix had me take an Unbreakable Vow. One of the tasks was, should Draco be unable to kill Albus, I do it for him."

"Why?" she whispered, looking back up to him. "Why did you agree to that?"

"I had no choice."

". . . just like you had no choice but to kill Albus?" Civia replied harshly, before pushing herself away from him, face cold. "Now, I have a class I need to prepare for, mind you, Snape."

"And?"

Her face colored as her fists clenched, her knuckles turning white from the force. "And that was my polite way to request you leave to your office or wherever the hell you spend your time, as long as it is not here!"

Snape finally looked to her, and Civia felt an odd feeling of déjà vu as his obsidian eyes pierced hers, just as a pair of bright blue had once so often pierced both of the Potions Masters. "Please attempt to make whatever excursions you have lower-profile. We can't have Professors Carrow knowing about them, if you wish for them to continue."

"Why?" she spat, acidic. "So Voldemort doesn't come and tell you off for not controlling your wife properly?"

"Please refrain from using the Dark Lord's name," Snape said, standing. She snorted in reply. "Why?"

"It's taboo," he explained, tight-lipped, "since Potter is the one most likely to use it." Tapping her chin, Civia paused, then asked, "So it's an inconvenience to Death Eaters when I say it?"

"Yes, quite."

The Potions Mistress grinned and shrugged. "Oh, good to know. In that case, Voldemort, Voldemort, Volde—_mm_!"

She was cut off when he covered her lips with his, in a determined kiss. Before she had time to recover, she found his tongue probing her parted lips, seeking and finding entrance . . .

But then Civia grabbed the front of his robes and shoving him away, hate burning in her veins, and she spat her words at him.

"Get. Out."


	11. Never Fair

**Chapter 11**

_**"Life, I've learned, is never fair. If they teach anything in schools, that should be it." **_**  
— ****Nicholas Sparks**

* * *

Her summons from the DA came at a perfect time, right after dinner, providing Civia with something to do while stalling from returning to Snape's chambers.

Fawkes appeared with a flourish beside her in her office.

Smiling in relief, she warded her office and classroom before grabbing the phoenix's brilliant plumage.

Both the witch and her familiar vanished in a maelstrom of flames, and reappeared in the Room of Requirement, making most of the students present jump or gape in surprise.

"Sorry about that," the Potions Mistress said, before looking to Fawkes on her shoulder, and saying, "Thank you my friend. Please watch for the Carrows or Snape headed this way and alert us with time to spare if they come."

The phoenix bobbed its head, giving a cheerful chirp before taking flight, heading out of the Room of Requirement.

Civia turned and faced her students—the DA, Dumbledore's Army.

Story time.

* * *

Horrified, pitying, sad eyes were all on her as she fell silent, minutes later.

Civia sighed, standing once again. "Come now, students. We've all come today to regroup, to re-task ourselves with the original purpose of the DA." She paused, her eyes grim as she scanned the group of students…and noticed: there was not a single Slytherin in sight.

"Death Eaters and Voldemort have taken control of our world, and of Hogwarts. It is the Darkest time in all of our history. We must stand together, trust each other, and protect each other, if we want for any hope of defeating Voldemort.

"We must work and improve our magic, to protect ourselves and our future.

"I will forewarn you if you haven't already guessed—you will not be learning any Defense from Amycus Carrow. His curriculum will be purely Dark Arts.

"So I suggest you focus on your Defense in these meetings."

At one point, Neville had stopped her and apologized for asking, telling her, "I can't believe he did that!"

Civia had smiled softly, and given the boy a small hug before sadly telling him, "Life, as I've found out, is rarely fair. If we teachers should get anything into our students' minds, that lesson should be it."

After the end of the DA meeting—during which she had them work on Shield Charms and Stunning Spells—Civia went to Minerva's office.

The Transfiguration Mistress opened her door swiftly to her colleague's knock, and hurriedly ushered her inside before warding the door to prevent anyone listening in or spying on them.

The others were already present—the other members of the Order and the unofficial members. The office had been temporarily enlarged to accommodate Pomona, Filius, Aurora, Poppy, and Hagrid as well as Civia and Minerva.

Only the latter two witches and Hagrid were true members, but the others had proved their loyalty ten-fold. Pomona, Filius, and Aurora were there as Heads of House. As the Slytherin Head of House was Alecto Carrow, Minerva had gotten Aurora to come instead as she originally planned on appointing the Astronomy teacher as Head of Slytherin.

"The DA has reconvened," she announced. "It seems Neville, Ginny, and Luna are the new leaders."

Hagrid beamed. "They'll do great."

She smiled, though it was a bit sad. "Yes, they will."

* * *

About an hour into their meeting, discussing the war, the Order, Voldemort, Snape, and the Carrows, Fawkes appeared in a blaze beside his witch with an urgent call.

"Snape or the Carrows?" she asked quickly.

The phoenix let out a single musical call, and Civia grimaced. "Snape is coming this way—we must leave before he finds us all here—"

They all quickly stood and headed to the door. Peeking out, Civia sighed in relief when no one was in sight, and she ushered the others out ahead of her. "Go! Hurry!" Her colleagues dispersed into the hallways, quickly vanishing into the twisting corridors.

"Goodnight, Minerva," she said quietly to her final colleague before departing herself…but of course, running into the Headmaster himself.

She stumbled in surprise, but Snape grasped her forearms to steady her. "Civia," he acknowledged in his low voice.

The Potions Mistress pulled her arms from his grasp with a menacing glare.

"Snape," she said in reply.

"To our chambers, Civia," said wizard told her, ignoring the disdain in her tone. "It is well past time that you should be in our quarters."

She sent him a withering glance. "Why do you even care, Snape?"

"You are my wife," Snape replied calmly, not a hint of being angry, but rather resigned in a way—whether for her persistent lack of cooperation, their marriage, or simply to her, the Potions Mistress knew not. "I'll not have you out wandering the halls late at night, risking being hurt." He looked to her with an intense, although somewhat sad, look in his dark eyes.

"And I'll not have you hurt."


	12. Compassion

**Chapter 12**

"_**Without suffering there would be no compassion.**_**"**

**~ Nicholas Sparks, 'A Walk to Remember'**

**

* * *

September 2****nd****, 1997**

The change in the Ministry, in only a couple months, was astounding. It was hideous and nauseating. It made Civia want to vomit.

The fountain had been replaced by a horrendous statue of black stone of a witch and a wizard sitting on ornately carved thrones that were molded from ugly, twisted, nude forms of muggle men, women, and children. It made her gut wrench to read the words under it: MAGIC IS MIGHT.

As she disgustedly walked past it, Civia fumed.

Snape had sent her to the Ministry to pick up some paper work from the Minister, before her classes started, mid-morning.

But before she was even a meter away from the Floo she had entered by, pandemonium broke free of two lifts, led by who she recognized as Albert Runcorn, a woman from the Improper Use of Magic Office, and a Magical Maintenance man. The following, terrified group of wizards and witches she recognized as mostly muggleborns. They were running, fleeing—

Behind her, Ministry employees were trying to seal the entrances—

All hell had broken out, with people shouting and screaming—one of them Runcorn, for the wizards to let the lot following him out—

"Seal the exit!" someone screamed as they hurtled from a lift, "SEAL IT!"

Yaxley—the Death Eater who'd been chosen as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—

But all the muggleborns but one had left via the fireplaces, with one clinging to the Magical Maintenance employee—but he was across the Atrium too…two of them—

Polyjuice—it had to be Polyjuice, used on Runcorn and his two helpers.

Civia met Runcorn's eyes and knew the look in them—

Harry. It was Harry. And the other two were Ron and Hermione—the Polyjuice was beginning to wear off and she could see the volume returning to Hermione's hair and freckles returning to Ron's face—and the scar to Harry's forehead.

"LET'S GO!" Harry shouted, grabbing Ron and Hermione to disapparate as the last two left by the Floo.

But as Harry turned, Yaxley snatched Hermione's arm to join them and Civia leapt at him, tackling him, but he clung on—

Civia's breath left her and then she saw Grimmauld Place's door—

She attacked Yaxley, clawing at him and jinxing and prying his hand from Hermione—"GO!" she screamed desperately—they could not be caught—

Then Hermione disapparated them away, to safety—and Civia was surrounded by the Death Eaters that had been watching Grimmauld since the takeover…

Desperation grasped her as she realized Yaxley was in on the Fidelius now and she silently removed all the wards of Grimmauld, leaving it plain to see for even muggles—

"_Fidelius!_" she cried desperately, wand pointed at Grimmauld, then turned and flicked at herself.

There were cries from the Death Eaters as 12 Grimmauld Place disappeared from their view, now hidden by her new Fidelius Charm…it was safe…

Hands pried her from her victim, and wands bound and gagged her, before someone grabbed her roughly by her hair and disapparated them away…

* * *

"Your wife has been troublesome, Severus," Voldemort said as he pushed Civia into the Headmaster's office, causing her to stumble into said Death Eater. Her arms were still bound to her sides.

She righted her balance, jerking out of the Headmaster's grasp before vanishing her bindings with a huff.

"Her nephew and two accomplices broke into the Ministry," Voldemort said softly, his eyes glinting with malice as he watched the Potions Mistress, "No one knows why, but it seems they broke into Dolores Umbridge's office, and helped several mudbloods escape.

"When they were about to disapparate, Yaxley managed to grab onto one of them, but your wife jumped on him as they disapparated to Grimmauld Place, London—the old Order of the Phoenix headquarters. Madam Snape attacked Yaxley, both magically and physically—allowing the trio to escape. Other Death Eaters that were watching Grimmauld had to pry her off him." He paused, and then spoke directly to Civia. "Care to explain to your husband what you also did?"

"Fidelius Charm," she spat. "You won't be getting in my nephew's home!"

"_Crucio_."

The Potions Mistress collapsed to the carpeted floor, shrieking, writhing. It was agony—she'd never felt it like this—never this bad—never this terrible.

Not ever—not when fighting his Death Eaters in the first war, not even with Bellatrix—

Never this long—it must have been an eternity—she had to be dead—it was pain past imagining, enduring—

_Let me die,_ she thought with a sob. _Let it end…death is nothing…_

_Harry_, she then remembered weakly. _Harry needs me…I can live with it for Harry…_

Then there was mercy, or so it seemed. He stopped the curse, and Civia went limp at Snape's feet, sobbing, tears covering her face. Even after the Cruciatus' end, she was still trembling, with fear, with pain.

"Tell me where it is."

There was a beat of silence, before the Headmaster's office was filled with her pained, earsplitting shrieks again. The Death Eaters that had followed their master winced at the volume, and the portraits of former Headmasters and –mistresses were shouting abuse at Voldemort, who silenced them with a wave of his hand as his wand was trained on Civia's thrashing form. Even Albus' perpetually sleeping portrait was roused, watching sadly, silently.

Eventually—Civia didn't know how long it was, maybe a week, maybe an eternity, she couldn't tell—Voldemort waved his wand, halting the Unforgiveable.

The office was silent except Civia's sobbing, clinging to the nearest thing.

Gentle hands grasped her upper arms, carefully pulling her to her feet, though she could not stand because of the violent spasms and trembling of her limbs. It was Snape, with an emotionless look on his face, but something like a spark of concern in his eyes, as he held her against his chest as she sobbed and trembled.

"Pathetic," spat Voldemort maliciously, before turning on his heel and storming from the office, Death Eaters in tow, leaving the couple alone in the office, with only the staring, sympathetic portraits.

"Severus, I think you had best let her rest in bed for the rest of the afternoon until dinner," one portrait said softly behind the Headmaster's desk, with a sad twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "Perhaps a potion for the pain."

She did not seem to hear.

"Come along, Civia," the Headmaster said quietly, helping her to their quarters and into the bed for a long rest from the lasting pain.

The Potions Mistress was unconscious before she even touched the mattress.

* * *

**Author's Note: Although the Death Eaters cannot get into Grimmauld Place now, this does not truly affect the overall plot, as the trio do not know it is safe. **

**NEW POLL ON MY PROFILE: Should I post some of Snape's POV of Civia's Tale? VOTE!  
**


	13. Hope

**Chapter 13**

"_**Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops... at all."**_

**~Emily Dickinson**

* * *

The year got worse quickly, and time dragged on.

The students were all terrified of getting in trouble and given a detention with the Carrows.

None of the staff realized what happened during those detentions—not even Civia, until one day in October.

It was late evening, and Snape had requested that she get him the Carrows' student detention records. She had given him a nasty look before spitting out that she was his wife, however unwilling she was, and _not_ his messenger owl.

Civia stormed out, anyways. Running his errands was better than sitting in there with him, she thought in a furious, bitter mutter.

But she shook her head and took her time walking through the corridors, which were surprisingly empty for this time of night. Couples were usually out and about now, snogging in the dark corners and niches—but she saw none.

Shrugging it off, she continued down the hallways, finally reaching the office the Carrows shared, which was beside the DADA classroom—from which yells, shouts, and screams were echoing.

Eyes widening in surprise, she had her wand out in a second, sending the classrooms doors slamming open.

"What is going on here?" she yelled, and all the occupants of the room froze.

Amycus and Alecto had their wands drawn, aimed at students in the middle of the classroom—most of whom looked to be victims of beatings with black eyes, swiftly-forming bruises, cuts, and, for some, a broken limb or two.

"Wha'cho want?" ground out Alecto.

"What," she spat out again, dangerously, "is going on here?"

Amycus waved a hand at the students flippantly. "Detention."

"Detention?" she screeched. "They look like they've been beaten!"

One of the students—a third year Gryffindor, she knew—looked to her and told her weakly:

"Cruciatus."

"_What?_" she screeched, marching towards the pair of Death Eaters. "You were using the Cruciatus on them? You have no right!"

"'Course, the brats!" Alecto said. "We're in charge of discipline, aren't we, _Snape?_"

Her hands were balled into fists, knuckles white and straining. There was a beat of silence, before Civia snapped into action, hexing and cursing the two Death Eaters into oblivion.

They never stood a chance.

"Get out!" she yelled over her shoulder at the students. "All of you—leave! Neville, go tell Professor McGonagall what has been going on, then head to see Madam Pomfrey. Terry, get the younger ones to the Hospital Wing!"

Then, minutes later, after they were gone and surely with Poppy by then, Civia halted her spells and returned her wand to the pocket hidden in her frock coat sleeve.

When she spoke, it was in a low, furious tone. "_Never_ use the Cruciatus on _my_ students. _Ever_."

"What're you gonna do to stop us?" spat Amycus.

Her eyebrow went up. "Use your imagination. If you are going to use the bloody Cruciatus Curse on someone, use it on me—not my students!" she spat.

The two Carrows glanced to each other before eerily similar evil smirks appeared on their faces as they turned to her…

* * *

The Headmaster's office was quiet all evening…until the door slammed open, admitting the two Carrows inside. Both were worn. Amycus was limping with his left foot and one of his eyes had been swollen shut, the skin a gruesome purple around it. His sister fared no better, with a fat lip and her right arm hanging limply at an odd angle.

"Tha's it, Snape!" yelled Amycus furiously as he limped to said Headmaster's desk. "You gotta do sumthin' 'bout that wife of yours!"

Snape's eyebrows quirked, taking in their injuries. "What happened this time?" A note of mild amusement colored his inquiry.

"She found out we were givin' the kiddies Crucio in detention," Alecto spat contemptuously.

"An' she stormed in, screamin' her pretty little head off," Amycus put in.

His sister gave him a withering look at 'pretty' but continued anyways. "She was yellin' for us to stop but o' course we didn't and she cursed us! Then she yelled for the brats to leave. When we told 'er she had no right to do that, she told us to leave 'em alone and use the Crucio on her 'stead."

Snape stood suddenly, eyes burning with fury. "You didn't."

"'course we did!" spat Amycus. "The chit deserved it!"

When the Headmaster spoke, cold fury was in his tone. "That _chit_ is my wife, Carrow. She may act like she is invulnerable, but she is delicate and I don't want you to touch her again—especially by an Unforgiveable. If you do, I will return the favor upon yourselves." A malicious gleam in his eyes made both siblings shudder.

"Why haven' you just put her under _Imperio_?" ground out Amycus.

Snape sighed in annoyance. "Civia is working with the other teachers to protect Hogwarts and the students. They would notice the change, however small. And, for another thing, I can control her precisely the way I desire." He paused, with a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "After all, where is the challenge if she is submissive and subservient?"

Alecto made a face before muttering, "You always did like power games, Snape."

* * *

She couldn't move much. Any movement caused bolts of pain to shudder though her, like she was under the Cruciatus Curse again.

Voldemort's curse was hell in its purest form. But it was only one curse.

Separately, the Carrows' curses were not nearly as badly. But when she was subjected to two Cruciatus Curses…it was only a hair weaker than Voldemort's, but the effects lasted much longer.

After ten or fifteen minutes—this was purely her estimation, there was no way to tell while under the curse—the Carrows had stopped when she fell unconscious. Civia woke sometime after to find the room empty save herself, which lead her to where she was.

A metallic taste lingered in her mouth, and she realized she must have bitten her tongue while under the curse. Her glasses had fallen off, presumably somewhere on the floor around her.

After a few minutes, the door opened and a black-clad figure that could only be the Headmaster swept in. Snape was at her side in a split second, gently tilting her chin up and coaxing her into swallowing a potion from a vial he withdrew from his pocket.

She accepted it swiftly, and a sigh of relief escaped her lips as the pain and trembling aftereffects vanished. Beside her, he picked something up from the floor and handed it to her. It was her glasses.

"Thank you," the Potions Mistress said weakly, regardless of the fact that it was Snape, as she wiped off the lenses and put them back on. "Why?"

He nodded calmly to her thanks, before replying. "I know how it feels, remember?" he muttered sarcastically, but said softly to her, "You are my wife. It is my duty to protect you."

Civia stared at him for a moment, surprised at the moment of sincerity—if it was real—from him.

"Come," Snape told her, "You should rest."

Gently, he lifted her up, Disillusioned them both, and carried her to their chambers.

After changing into her sleeping gown she settled into bed, where her husband soon joined her.

* * *

In the darkness of their room, Civia could not sleep.

Snape had not been that kind to her…probably since she was forced to sign the marriage contract. Then again, she hadn't really given him many opportunities to be.

Her heart ached at the possibility that the Severus she had known and loved wasn't completely a lie, that he wasn't completely heartless.

Carefully, she sat up and looked at the sleeping man beside her. In the blankets of Morpheus, his face was lacking the tension it normally constantly held. His masks vanished in sleep, leaving him looking more like the Severus she loved than Snape the murdering Death Eater.

Hope fluttered in her chest, hope for the man she loved and prayed was still somewhere in there.

She bent over him and whispered, "Please be in there, Severus. I haven't given up hope yet…please don't kill that hope." Her lips brushed over his pale cheek before she settled back in her previous spot and slipped into blissful oblivion.

Civia didn't notice her husband open his eyes and watch her sleep before tenderly pressing his lips to her forehead.


	14. Crushing

**Chapter 14**

_**"Dreams are always crushing when they don't come true. But it's the simple dreams that are often the most painful because they seem so personal, so reasonable, so attainable. You're always close enough to touch, but never quite close enough to hold and it's enough to break your heart."  
**_**— ****Nicholas Sparks**** (****Three Weeks with My Brother****)**

* * *

If Civia had expected Snape's moment of kindness to last to the morning, she would have been disappointed. Granted, she hadn't, and wasn't surprised. She was surprised to find a potion vial on her desk with a note of only three words on it.

_Just in case._

It was the same potion he'd given her the night before that resolved the aftereffects. Shocked, she had made a mental note to thank him.

Twenty minutes before her first class, Minerva had rushed in, and closed the door behind her. "Civia—are you alright?" she asked urgently.

The Potions Mistress nodded. "Fine, Minerva. I take it Neville told you?"

"Of course," she replied briskly. "As soon as the Carrow swine started the Cruciatus, Neville ran all the way to my office, completely out of breath and frantic. I sent Patronuses to Poppy, Filius, and Pomona, but by the time we got to the Defense classroom, you were gone."

Civia scowled darkly. "I hoped he hadn't known that."

Though it was exasperating, her student's concern for her touched Civia.

* * *

That night, Civia went to bed earlier than usual, falling asleep quickly.

But it was not exactly peacefully. For the first time in what felt like months, Civia dreamed…

…_she pulled the worn lavender robe closer around her, silently casting a warming charm as she walked through the cool, dark chambers. _

_The door creaked softly as she pulled it open, revealing the Headmaster's office, lit only by a few candles on the desk. All the portraits were sleeping, snoring from their frames. A dark head was bent over a parchment as a handsome phoenix-feather quill travelled across the parchment swiftly._

_Civia padded behind the man sitting at the desk, before gently placing a hand on his shoulder. _

"_I thought you had gone to bed," a soft but deep voice said quietly to her. _

_She smiled lovingly to the man. "I couldn't sleep without you, Sev. Come to bed. It can wait until morning."_

_Severus reluctantly set down the quill, turning to her. "It needs to be on their desk by morning, love."_

_The Potions Mistress rolled her eyes. "The budget request for the new school year can wait a few extra hours. If the Governors don't know how good a Headmaster you are after all these years, they can stuff it. You should sleep. It's well past one."_

_He smiled as he stood, embracing her from behind, wrapping his arms around her middle. Civia returned the embrace, resting her head over Severus' heart. Their hands intertwined, and he held up her left hand._

_The wedding ring sparkled in the moonlight from the window. _

"_Fifty years tomorrow, love," Severus said._

_A tender smile formed on her lips as she tilted her head to kiss him happily. "I know. Fifty years of happiness."_

_Civia stared at him for a long minute. His face had aged and wrinkled since they had married. There was silver in his temples now, but the rest of his hair was still the same ebony. His obsidian eyes were the same—deep and piercing and beautiful as he stared at her with love and tenderness plain to see._

"_I love you," she whispered, in the silence of the office._

_He smiled lovingly. "As I love you, Civia…"_

* * *

She jolted awake as a clap of thunder echoed in the room, as well as the sound of a heavy rain falling suddenly upon the castle.

Confusion held her, until she then remembered where she was.

Beside her, something moved. Severus, she realized—and then the dream hit her like wrecking ball and she leapt from the bed and hurtled into the bathroom. The door slammed behind her.

That dream, it had been what she had thought, about a year ago, what she had imagined her future to be. Now…her life was a mockery of that dream—she, married forcibly to Snape, who had killed Albus, who had been replaced as Headmaster by his own murderer.

Before she even realized it, tears were flowing from her eyes, sobs escaping her lips.

Merlin—even her happiness a year ago had been a lie. All the friendship and love she had experienced and shared with Severus…it had all been a trick by him, to trick her into trusting him. It had all been a lie—to help Snape kill Albus, help Voldemort, and defeat them all.

Memories flashed before her eyes. Severus—the one she had known and loved then—smiling his rare, handsome smile…him sitting at her bedside after the poison incident…them in the Maybloom field…flying with him…brewing with him…kissing him…loving him…

Warm, gentle arms folded around her, and for a moment, Civia thought them to be part of a memory, before she opened her eyes to find Snape, in his black bed clothes kneeling at her side, pulling her up.

"Come back to bed, Civia," he said softly, in the way he would speak to her then, like he cared.

She sobbed even harder as he led her back to their bed.

For the rest of the night, Civia Snape cried into her pillow, mourning the memories that the dream had brought back and the man she had once loved. In the morning, she erected a Glamour spell to hide the swelling-like puffiness of her red eyes and the bruise-like shadows under her eyes.

No one noticed.

No one saw the fragile, barely held-together woman as that.

No one saw the heartbreak in her eyes…no one except the Headmaster.

* * *

**Reviews made me smile. ^_^ And they encourage me to continue writing. ;D  
**

**So, from here on out, I'll be updating every weekend or Monday.**

**DON'T FORGET MY POLL! It's about a possible THIRD Civia novel-from SEVERUS' POV! What do you think? Aren't you curious what the mysterious Potions Master is thinking throughout all this? You won;t ind out if you don't vote. :D Mwa ha ha.I want at least 15 votes before I decide to. WHICHEVER gets 15 first will be my decision!**

**ALSO- if you haven't already, check out the link on my profile for a trailer I made for Civia's Tale, posted on YouTube. It's mostly crap, but I like it.  
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**SO VOTE!  
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	15. Finding a Way

**Chapter 15**

"_**aut viam inveniam aut facium"**_

**~ Latin, meaning "I will either find a way or make one."**

* * *

Weeks later, autumn had truly come, with a cool, crisp wind that made students shiver as the leaves turned reds and golds before fluttering to the ground.

Before she knew it, October had ended, with the Halloween Feast having come and gone. Then, November came, along with more and more rain.

She had been examining her seventh year students' potions samples of Felix Felicis , when there was a quick, almost frantic knock on her office door.

"Come in!" she exclaimed, setting down the vial in her hands.

A young Gryffindor third-year, Nigel—also a DA member—rushed in, out of breath.

"Nigel, what's wrong?" she asked, hurrying to him, alarmed.

"Snape sent me—to get you," he panted urgently, trying to breathe. "Neville—Luna—Ginny! Broke into his office!"

Her eyes widened before she flicked her wand, summoning a Calming Draught to the boy, before transforming and taking flight as quickly as she could, soaring through the corridors.

Finally reaching the statue, Civia returned to her human form, before muttering, "Aconite." Snape had taken up the habit of using potions or ingredients as his password.

The gargoyle sprung aside and she rushed up the stairs into the office. Inside, she found Snape standing in front of his desk, his dark eyes on the three young leaders of the DA, who were standing against the opposite wall. Minerva and Filius stood just to the right of the door, glaring daggers at the Headmaster. At Snape's left, the Carrows stood, grinning menacingly at the students.

"What happened?" she demanded to Snape.

The Headmaster raised an eyebrow before impassively explaining. "I found Miss Weasley, Miss Lovegood, and Mr. Longbottom breaking into my office."

"Whatever for?" asked Minerva sharply, looking at their students, confused.

None of the trio spoke, so Snape replied for them. "They were trying to steal _this_," The Headmaster lifted the Sword of Gryffindor from his desk. Her eyes flew from the gleaming sword to the trio of students. Ginny gave her a searching look, trying to know if Civia understood why.

And she did. The Potions Mistress could think of only one reason they'd steal it: for Harry. Ginny would have known that Albus left it to him, and that he had not received it. And even though she didn't know what it was for, the youngest Weasley still trusted Albus and Harry. She still had faith in them and the plan...even if she did not know it.

Civia pursed her lips, but slightly nodded.

Snape paused, observing the three students for a long moment. "I think detention with Professors Carrow is in order."

Her stomach dropped in horror, eyes widening as the students' did as well as the two Heads of House present.

"No!" she gasped before she could stop herself.

Snape looked to her impassively, an eyebrow raised.

No words passed her open lips for a moment, before Civia finally asked, "Can I speak with you privately?"

The Headmaster nodded before ushering the others out of the office.

"Please," she said quietly, pleading. "Please don't hand them to the Carrows! They will end up like Alice and Frank Longbottom-those two idiot know not when to stop! Anything else but the Carrows—with Filch, or in the forest—"

A heavy silence followed. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, as her eyes searched her husband's for any hint of mercy. Finally, he spoke.

"The forest," mused Snape, "That should due." Hagrid handled detentions in the forest. He would protect them.

And suddenly, she could breathe again.

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**AN: short chapter, I know, but these chapters here are mostly fillers…not much important yet. But once it speeds up, buckle your seatbelt!**

**REMEMBER! Vote on the poll!**


	16. A Very Frosty Christmas

**Chapter 16**

"_**There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.**_**"**

**~ Colette**

* * *

December came soon. The days would pass painfully slow, but the months blurred by.

Christmas break came quickly, to the relief of both the staff and students. But when Christmas Eve came, Snape had been summoned by Voldemort and was gone most of the day, until arriving late at night, grim and stony-faced.

Civia had moved to leave their quarters for her lab in the dungeons, but her husband had stopped her with a hand coming to rest on her arm. Startled, her eyes flew to meet his grim obsidian eyes.

"It's Potter."

The Potions Mistress froze, her heart skipping a beat in fright. "What?" Snape grasped her other arm too and led her to a chair before finally explaining, "He and Granger were found visiting Godric's Hollow and were attacked by Nagini. They escaped just before the Dark Lord arrived."

"They—they're alive?" she gasped, relief flooding her chest. Nodding, he softly replied, "Yes, but your nephew sustained a bite from Nagini before they escaped."

And just like that, her breathing was constricted again, terror gripping her heart in a stone cold fist.

Taking a breath, Civia forced herself to remember the days before the marriage—her marriage—when Hermione had asked her for advice on what to pack in her bag, in case of an emergency, like the Fall of the Ministry days later.

The Potions Mistress had immediately taken the girl with her to her office and helped her stock up on potions of all kinds—Dittany of course, blood-replenishing, pain-relieving, burn-healing paste, strengthening, calming, sleeping, truthful, and other such potions, as well as a stock of antivenins…including a rare antidote to Nagini's poison.

Hermione would remember and use it. The girl was very much like Civia had been, though braver, more outspoken, more social, and possessing far more friends.

Using that knowledge to cushion the shock and concern for her nephew, Civia managed to slip into blissfully dreamless slumber.

* * *

When the Potions Mistress woke in the morning, Snape had already woken and gone, leaving her in solitude. Pulling on the soft, warm bathrobe she had received from her husband early in their marriage, she padded to the bathroom to dress for the day.

Once suitable dressed, she departed from their room into the small sitting room outside it, but skidded to a halt as her eyes fell upon a small, rather flat box, about the size of her palm. It was plain black, and without wrappings or tags. Hesitantly, she opened it, and stared.

It was a small set of jewelry, a necklace and a pair of earrings, all of golden screech owls with emerald and sapphire jewels. They matched not only her wedding ring, but also the charm bracelet from exactly a year ago…the very bracelet that suddenly felt cold and heavy, hidden, upon her wrist.

Snape.

It could not have been anyone else.

But it was Christmas, and she was without any family once again. Gloom filled her, replacing the usual spark of defiance and anger. Carefully, she put on the jewelry, deciding that—irrelevant of whom it was from—it was a gift and would not be wasted. She may as well wear them.

Suddenly, Civia noticed a small pile of wrapped presents on the table beside her and deftly unwrapped them.

A navy Weasley sweater with a cauldron upon it, from Mrs. Weasley; an copy of a yet-unreleased book on combining spells and potions from Minerva, who had undoubtedly used her connections to get her a copy this early; a box of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes from Fred and George (with a note telling her to use them to "escape from Snape") ; a beautiful leather-bound journal for transcribing her original potions recipes into from Filius; a small potted magical plant from Pomona; from Remus and Tonks, a new bottle of red wine.

There were small notes or cards as well, offering her support and hope and love. Carefully, placing them into her frock coat pocket as if to lend her strength, she headed downstairs for breakfast.

* * *

Three days after Christmas, Snape disappeared again, Civia found as she walked into the empty Headmaster's office. Only the portraits showed any form of life, or rather movement.

"Where has he gone?" she asked them.

Phineas Nigellus was gone from his frame, thank Merlin; she didn't think she could deal with the snide Slytherin Headmaster now. Albus' portrait was asleep in his frame. But Everard spoke to her quietly. "Severus has left the school for the day—he took the sword."

Civia froze. "The Sword of Gryffindor?"

They nodded.

"Damnit," she muttered.

Just when she had the thought to steal it herself and deliver it to Harry as an owl, it was too late.

When he returned, the headmaster had a replica of the sword, which he placed in the case. "To protect it from thieving students," he had told her, giving a look that told her not to even think about touching it.

In response, Civia had only given him a cold, aggravated look while cursing him to hell in her mind.


	17. A Flash of Silver

**AN: WARNING:**

**Buckle your seatbelts! It's about to get good!****  
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* * *

Chapter 17**

"_**Love means exposing yourself to the pain of being hurt, deeply hurt by someone you trust.**__**"**_

**~ Renita Weems**

New Years came and past…along with news that Luna had been captured on her way home for break, and that Xenophilius Lovegood had been visited by the trio, who had attempted to turn them over to the Death Eaters in a misguided attempt to get his abducted daughter back.

Fifth and Seventh Year students were studying and getting twitchy about the swiftly approaching exams.

Meanwhile, the DA had lost one of their leaders when Luna didn't return after break. Somehow, this only redoubled their efforts and determination to learn more and do well. Ginny, Neville, and Civia ran them tirelessly—Neville teaching the defense techniques, Ginny testing their defenses and teaching offensive, and Civia teaching a bit of this, a bit of that, including potions, healing, and about dueling in general.

But the DA students were also busy still, trying to keep her out of their more clandestine activities, including them sneaking out to put their slogans and graffiti on the corridor walls.

**(AN: I picture it something like this: http:/ loonyl . Deviantart . com / gallery/ #/d21 6bj3 if you scroll down until you see Snape. LOL.)**

They would write in permanent ink on the walls in big and bold letters, "Dumbledore's Army, still recruiting". She had seen some of the art. There was a pig named 'Carrow' on the wall, as well as a crude looking sketch of the headmaster with a caption under it: 'You're not my boggart any more!'

There were other scribbles too, of course—mostly mocking Snape, Voldemort, and the Carrows. It was amusing, if dangerous.

Time continued to pass, tensely and stressfully.

Finally, Easter break came, and most students went home, relieved for solace from Death Eaters.

But not all was well during Easter.

* * *

Civia Potter had been in her chambers, trying to recover from the headache she had, caused by none other than the Carrows.

Merlin, she hated them. Snape apparently had recently told of how he'd 'seduced' the eldest Potter, having her wrapped around his evil finger last school year… They'd mocked and derided her mercilessly.

Her fellow professors were obviously concerned for her. In the Great Hall, she often felt their eyes on her, watching for any sign of cracking under pressure like a rock.

She hated it—the pity, the sympathy, the babying. _Poor little Civia Potter_, she thought sneering, _who lost both her parents, twin brother, and sister-in-law to Death Eaters, whose only living relative was a most wanted criminal by the Death Eater-infested Ministry of blasted Magic, whose heart had been stolen and shattered by none other than Voldemort's best servant, the murderer of Albus Dumbledore._ _Bah!_ she thought bitterly.

They acted as if she were powerless—helpless as a newborn babe.

Ha! The bitter witch snorted. If only they knew. She was anything but.

But that train of thought ended as the Galleon in her pocket burned nearly painfully. She snatched it from her pocket and read the message. "HP, RW, HG in Malfoy Manor Cellar – LL".

She leapt up from her chair, then Apparated away, as if Anti-Apparition Wards were not in place. _Fuck the wards_, she thought viciously, as she slithered though not only Hogwarts' wards, but also those on Malfoy Manor. She did so without even alerting those upstairs. It was a difficult job to do-getting through wards, but relatively simple.

This was not for her measure of power, but rather, her connections. Though her mother's Black family blood, she was related to Narcissa, and accepted through the Malfoy wards as family. Not alerting the Malfoys, however, was because of manipulation on her part. As for the Hogwarts wards, well, being a Professor and the wife of the Headmaster gave her considerable advantage.

The cellar of Malfoy Manor was a dark, dank, and musty room, more like dungeons that those at Hogwarts. Screaming came from above—from someone under the Cruciatus Curse—Hermione.

Civia could only see because of magic imbuing her vision.

There were several people in the room, all filthy, weak, and slightly bloody. In the far corner, the figures of Ollivander the missing wandmaker and Dean Thomas were huddled, pale faces shockingly white in the light. Luna Lovegood was beside two shockingly familiar figures—Harry and Ron.

Instantly upon recognizing her, Ron shouted, "CIV—!"

Harry had reacted instantly, slapping his arm to get him to be quiet.

"What did you do?" Civia asked unhappily, her chaotic midnight curls whirling round her head in loose tendrils. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

"You—you can Apparate out of here?" asked Harry. She nodded confidently.

"Take Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander, take them to—to—"

"Bill and Fleur's," Ron supplied, "Shell Cottage!"

Civia nodded, grabbed the three carefully but securely, and Disapparated.

She pulled them with her towards the cottage, knocking hastily and urgently. Bill answered promptly, wide-eyed and surprised. "Take care of them, Bill! I have to get Harry, Ron, and Hermione!"

The oddly calm witch Disapparated without another word, landing back into the cellar, where Harry and Ron were physically fighting Wormtail. With a flick of her fingers, the boys were pulled off him, and he silenced.

His watery eyes were wide as they spotted her.

"What is it, Wormtail?" called Lucius Malfoy from upstairs.

"Nothing," Ron called back, in a surprisingly realistic imitation. "All fine!"

Civia's wandless hands were at her sides, hands balled into white fists, magical sparks flying from the tendrils of her hair. She snatched his wand from his hands, giving it to Ron, the closest at the moment.

"You owe both James and Harry your life," she spoke coldly, a slim, graceful finger pointed at the rat of a man. "As well as I.

"I claim this life debt now."

His pupils had dilated fully as his body trembled.

"_Avada Kedavra._"

The man slumped, dead. Harry and Ron were staring in shock, jaws slack and gaping.

"Come along," she whispered urgently, not even giving the corpse a second glance. At the ajar cellar door, the trio had a clear view of the going-ons of above. Bellatrix Lestrange was standing above a goblin who clutched the Sword of Gryffindor. Hermione's prone form was at the witch's feet, hardly stirring.

"Well?" Bellatrix demanded harshly, "Is it the true sword?"

"No," the goblin said, "It is a fake."

"Are you sure?" the Death Eater woman demanded, relief flooding her haggard features, "Quite sure?"

"Yes."

All tension disappeared from the Death Eaters.

"Good," she said dismissively, cutting a gash in the goblin's face with a flick of her wand. The goblin collapsed with a yell of pain. "And now," Bellatrix announced, "We summon the Dark Lord!"

And then she pulled back her sleeves and touched her forefinger to the Dark Mark.

As an afterthought, the heartless woman added, "And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want to."

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Ron burst into the drawing room. Civia was immediately behind him, adapting to the situation.

Bellatrix spun, shocked, but instinctively raising her wand.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he roared, using Wormtail's wand. Hers, in turn, flew into the air and was caught by Harry.

Nasty curses of her own invention were flung from her hands, at all the Death Eaters. Random flashes from wands flared. At the end of her wand, Lucius collapsed, and Narcissa was at his side in an instant—duel forgotten.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!"

Civia froze, as well as Harry and Ron.

Bellatrix was supporting Hermione—now unconscious—while holding a silver knife to the girl's throat, grinning like a cat playing with a mouse already caught.

"Drop your wands," she ordered in a whisper. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"

Tilting her head to the side curiously, Civia watched them. Ron was rigid, Harry indecisive.

She could see blood pooling at the blade's edge. "Do it," Civia whispered.

Reluctantly, the two boys complied.

"Good," Bellatrix leered. "Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!"

Her dark, cold eyes slipped to Civia, and the woman sneered. "Looks like Snape hasn't been to careful with his _wife_, letting her run wild. The Dark Lord won't be pleased, at all.

"Now," she said, when Draco hurried back with their wands, "Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight." Her eyes flicked to the eldest Potter, "He may even allow you this one."

Then, there was a peculiar grinding noise from above. All eyes flicked upwards—except the violet pair—and saw the crystal chandelier tremble, but then suddenly fall to the floor with a crash.

Bellatrix, Hermione, and the goblin had been directly under it, and the Death Eater flung herself aside, dropping her hostage. Crystal shards flew everywhere, though it was deflected from Civia, her nephew, Ron, and, strangely, Hermione and the goblin, the latter of which was still clutching the sword of Gryffindor.

Draco doubled over, clutching his bloody face, though Civia _had_ stopped the deadly ones from hitting him. Though he had a Dark Mark, she knew his heart was not in it—she had seen that in school this year.

Ron was dragging Hermione out of the wreckage, and the goblin followed her out. Narcissa was dragging Draco from farther harm's way, but Harry had lunged at Draco, snatching at the wands. Civia _Accio_ed hers into her pocket.

"Fools!" Civia bellowed, drawing the Death Eater's attention to herself. They froze when they saw her arm had been extended towards the chandelier.

"You!" shrieked Bellatrix. "You filthy little monkey! How dare you?"

"I dare!" Civia bellowed furiously. "You shall all reap what you have sowed soon, and it shall later be at my hands!" she vowed. "But now your master shall punish you and he shall receive this message to never underestimate me, Civia_ Potter!_"

As she spoke, she had backed away, to Harry, Ron, and the prone forms of Hermione and the goblin.

"And you will pay for this, cousin, Bellatrix. Good luck. You will need it," she spat.

Civia snatched their hands, an instant after she saw a flash of silver from Bellatrix. Spinning in place to Disapparate, and vanished.

But as soon as she landed at the cottage, Civia Potter collapsed on the ground, crying out in pain.

Looking down, she saw a rapidly spreading crimson stain on the dark blue robes she wore, the expensive fabric skewered at the swell of her left breast, just above her heart, where the hilt of the silver dagger protruded.

As Harry began to stand, she could only whisper, "Go," before she used the reserves of her strength to Apparate directly into Hogwarts. She landed in an empty, dark corridor, lit only by the light of the moon through a window, on her hands and knees, but then collapsed onto her side, head spinning, chest pulsing, bleeding…

The last thing she saw was a great, bat-like shape hurtling towards her before she drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

**BWA HA HA HA...**

**;D I loooooove a good cliffhanger, don't you? **

**Yeah, I had to change it. For one, I HATED THAT DOBBY DIED. Two, I wanted to spice it up-Civia was getting bored in Hogwarts. This way, everyone's happy-Civia gets to help her nephew, Dobby doesn't die, and you all will definitely check next weekend for an update. :D**

**Pleeeeeeease don't kill me for this. I mean, think about it. If you kill me, you'll never know what happens to Civia. (BWA HA AH!)**

**ALSO- I'm so terribly sorry I haven't updated recently! Apparently, was having problems, so it wasn't just me. THANKS TO** **LoNeWoLfGoEsRaWr FOR TELLING ME IT WAS FIXED!** :D

**And readers- REVIEW...please?**

**PS- Also vote in my poll. I'm still not convinced you guys want me to write this in Snape's POV... :D**

**Thanks guys!  
**


	18. Almost like We're Together Again

**Chapter 18**

_**"And for the briefest instant, it almost feels like we're together again."  
**_**— ****Nicholas Sparks**** (****Dear John****)**

Civia woke, barely conscious of anything but the needle sharp, twisting pain in her chest, to the left just above her heart, and the feel of her head cradled against someone's warm, strong chest. They were carrying her, holding her torso with one arm and supporting her legs with another. Vaguely, she could tell whomever it was carrying her was walking at an alarmingly fast speed, nearly running.

As they started up a set of stairs, she cried out at the jolt, though the sound was weak and pitiable. Her breathing, she then realized, was shallow, gasping, and weak.

"Do not move," a smooth voice instructed.

Severus.

After a twinge of pain, Civia allowed herself to relax into him. She didn't want to be carried by him, really—he'd betrayed them all and killed one of the only two people who trusted him without question, the other being herself. She hated him—he'd broken her heart and stomped on it—but she couldn't stop herself from relaxing into his gentle, strong, reassuring hold.

Snape muttered under his breath, pausing, then stepped into his office, where, despite the late hour, the portraits were abuzz with activity. The Headmaster did not pay them any mind. Still gentle, he laid her onto a cot he had silently conjured and went to a cabinet on the wall. Through the haze of pain, she watched as he removed several vials and returned to her side.

Suddenly, she was aware of the fact that blood had soaked through her midnight blue robes, leaving a bloody trail on the floor and a wet bloodstain on his robes.

With surprising care, he opened her mouth and poured the contents of a vial into it. She forced herself to swallow.

"I couldn't remove the knife earlier without you bleeding out, Civia," he said, gripping the hilt of the knife. "I will remove it and heal you swiftly."

He did. Civia cried out as even more blood poured from the wound and the pain hit a new height.

She felt the magic then, pouring into the knife's place, the flesh knitting together, the blood flow lessening, as well as the pain, though a throbbing ache remained.

"Do not move," he said quietly, even though Civia knew better than to move, as he laid a hand over the wound. Her breath caught at the intimate touch on her breast.

Then, she heard something else. A soft, silky baritone singing. Looking up weakly, she felt her mouth form an O in surprise.

Finally the pain abated, though she was still exhausted, drowsy, achy, and weak, and he fell silent.

"The knife barely missed your heart," he said gruffly, "but it sliced clear through your pulmonary veins and into your left lung. If you didn't die of blood loss, you'd have from suffocation or the shock." He fell silent for a long moment.

"Who did this?" he asked, obsidian eyes burning in fury.

As she'd been stabbed in such a vital place for both the blood vessel and respiratory system, Civia's voice was weak when she croaked, "Bellatrix..."

His fists tightened in hatred.

But suddenly, he jumped, letting out a hiss of pain, clutching his left forearm. Civia was vaguely somewhere between being sympathetic and being smug at seeing him in pain after what he'd done to her for months, but she shoved the spite aside.

Casting her one last look—filled with concern and worry that was obviously false—, he swept from the office, robes billowing, dramatic as ever, behind him.

Forcing herself to sit up, Civia's knuckles turned white as she held the edge of the blood-soaked cot in a death grip. Breathing deeply, despite the twinge of pain it caused, she stood, with only the force of her will to support her.

But even her will was not strong enough to support her, and she fell with a soft 'umph!' back to the sofa. Civia's strength and energy was gone. She had no chance to fight against the lethargy before she slipped into the calm, blissful arms of Morpheus…

* * *

…only to be awakened moments later, a hand carefully but urgently shaking her awake…it was Snape, she realized as her eyes shot open.

"The Dark Lord is in Hogwarts this moment," he said urgently, urging her to her feet, though she was weak and didn't get far. "He is coming here, now, to this office. He must not find you now, after what you did at Malfoy Manor…"

But before she could fully stand, the door to the Headmaster's office opened, revealing a tall, black-clad figure. Both Civia and Snape froze.

"My Lord," said her husband softly, bowing his head as he could not fully bow as he supported her.

"Severus," he acknowledged, "Civia. I hope you are well." Malice-filled red eyes gleamed as they pierced the Potions Mistress.

"I would be," she replied, coldly smooth, "were it not for Bellatrix."

A smirk appeared on his lipless mouth. "I see you are better than she last saw."

"You mean as she stabbed me and cut through my aorta?" said Civia snappily, feeling the pain of the blade as keenly as she had hours ago. "Yes, I wonder why. Potions are a magnificent thing," she retorted, absently rubbing the spot over her heart.

There was a pause. Two pairs of eyes were upon her—the malevolent crimson eyes of Voldemort, and the piercing—_almost __**concerned!**_ she thought derisively_—_onyx eyes of her husband.

Finally, Voldemort broke the silence as he drew a new wand from his robe sleeve—a terrifyingly familiar wand—but she didn't have time to inspect it as Voldemort coldly murmured, "_Crucio_."

Severus lost his grip on her arm as she writhed and shook in pain, falling to the stone floor. Behind them, the portraits were shouting in protest. Snape was frozen, wide eyes catching every twitch of her tortured body.

Finally, maybe hours later, there was reprieve from the fire in her veins.

Voldemort spoke softly in the dead silence, filled only with Civia's heavy breathing. "You will not interfere again, Civia. I need you alive. All my best, purest Death Eaters are to produce more pure-blooded stock for our future society. Severus is at the top of that list. You _will_ produce heirs. If not, _Civia_, you will be given to another—perhaps Rabastan Lestrange, he is looking for a wife." A shiver of disgust ran through her. "For now, you will obey Severus, or you may find yourself in less…comfortable surroundings. Farewell, Severus. _Madam Snape_."

In a flourish, the Dark Lord Voldemort swept out, leaving the office in silence, until there was a soft roar of flames as Fawkes appeared and fluttered to rest on the edge of the Headmaster's desk. Severus, meanwhile, knelt beside her and softly helped Civia to her feet, supporting most of her small weight. She had been weak before, but now after the Cruciatus, she was plain feeble.

Tears had filled her amethyst eyes, barely kept from falling, he saw as she clung to him for support.

She hated to be this weak, this dependant, but she needed to be, Civia thought as Severus pulled her closer to support her. Her head was rested upon his chest, arms around her waist in support.

Softly, she felt something on her back, before she realized her husband was stroking her back soothingly.

And, in the silence of the office, she allowed herself to relax, just for a moment, to pretend this was before Albus's death, when she and he loved each other truly, before their 'relationship' was turned into this farce it was today. A moment, really, for her to forget her fears and relax in the embrace of the one she had loved.

_And for the briefest instant, it almost feels like we're together again…_


	19. Hell

**Chapter 19**

"_**If you're going through hell, keep going." **_

**~ Winston Churchill**

* * *

The door to the staff room slammed open, making several of the teachers jump in surprise, as Civia stormed in, her face red and furious, though her eyes were slightly damp with an unshed tear.

The teachers were gathering there for the staff meeting, though the Death Eaters were not there yet. Civia did not say anything as she stomped over to an empty corner and stopped in front of the wall before digging in her pocket. Finally, with a look of triumph, she pulled out a small circular object, like a pin in size. With a flick of her wand, it enlarged to about the width of the Potions Mistress's forearm.

Carefully, she placed it on the wall, and withdrew a photo from her pocket. With precision, Civia magicked the picture to the center of the round object, though the picture was much smaller than it. With a shrewd expression, she waved her wand at it, muttering complex  
incantations under her breath.

"Civia, what are you doing?" asked Filius curiously, coming up beside her.

She smiled delightedly as she backed up several feet. "Setting up my new hobby—a game muggles call darts," she explained as she pulled out said darts from her pocket. "I'll need something to distract me during this blasted meeting, as well as help me get out my current anger."

Minerva peered at the photo, grim amusement twitching the corners of her lips upwards. "I take it that anger is quite literally aimed at the Headmaster?"

Civia nodded, scowling. "Yes. He is determined to make my life hell by mocking me in the halls in front of the Carrows and students, of how I thought he was my friend...before." As if on cue, the final three teachers entered, and the room fell silent as everyone seated themselves at the table, except Civia who remained where she was.

Snape ignored this as the meeting started, as well as her game of darts.

He let her have this temper tantrum, until the _thunk_ of the dart hitting the board was gaining more attention than him.

"Civia, sit down," he said, irritated.

As she Summoned the darts back to her, Civia shook her head. "I'm fine where I am."

"Sit down now, Civia." Before replying, she threw the dart, which hit the picture-Snape's large hooked nose dead center. A few of the others suppressed smiles at her aim.

Civia whirled to Snape, giving him a glare that would make even the most arrogant Slytherins recoil.

"That was my polite way of telling you to kiss my arse, Snape," she snapped, flinging another dart, which hit picture-Snape directly between the eyes.

One of the Headmaster's eyebrow rose calmly as his dark gaze followed his wife as she stormed out of the room.

The DA was mostly in hiding now, hiding from the Carrows in the Room of Requirement. Whenever a student vanished, Civia had flown to the Room of Requirement, to ensure they were safe, before flying to the Heads of House (Aurora for Slytherin) and sharing the news of their safety.

Tensions were high among the staff. Civia was constantly on edge because of the Carrows and Snape. The Headmaster made Civia nervous as hell. He had caught her in a weak moment, when she was vulnerable, and it couldn't happen again—and it didn't. He returned to his evil self by day, mocking her with the Carrows, who were determined to make her life hell, and were contributing excellently to it.

But then, May arrived, and with it, news that would change the fate of the Wizarding world…

* * *

**A/N: OKAY! This is the last chapter before the climactic finale of Civia's Tale. **

**In the next chapter, entitled "Reunion", aunt and nephew are reunited, hope returns to Hogwarts, and the battle begins.**

**Only eight more chapters and the epilogue remain in Civia's Tale!**

**Review!  
**


	20. Reunion

**Chapter 20**

"_**The family is a haven in a heartless world." **_

**~Attributed to Christopher Lasch**

* * *

The first of May brought tidings of a break-in at Gringotts, by Harry, Ron, and Hermione who—reportedly—had escaped upon a dragon.

That night, she had been patrolling—not by schedule, but habit, as an owl. But as she soared through an abandoned corridor, she had heard shouting.

"—_Alecto?_ Are you in there? Have you got him? Open the door!"

Alarmed, she had transformed and hurried to the source of the commotion, outside her old commonroom door.

As she approached, Amycus continued to shout at the door as entrance was denied. Civia stopped behind him and asked in her most imperious voice, "May I ask what you are doing, Amycus?"

The lumpy Death Eater spun to face her distastefully, before continuing to attempt to force his way into Ravenclaw Tower. "Trying—to get—through this damned—door!" he shouted. "Go and get Flitwick! Get him to open it now!"

The Potions Mistress gave his a cold look. "But isn't your sister in there? Didn't Professor Flitwick let her in earlier this evening at your urgent request?" she asked, remembering her fellow tiny professor's fury at it. "Perhaps she could open the door for you? Then you needn't wake up half the castle."

"She ain't answering, ya li'l slut! _You _open it! Garn! Do it now!"

The look he got in reply was frigid. "If you wish so," she muttered, tone just as icy as her eyes, before she gently knocked.

"Where do Vanished objects go?"

"Into nonbeing, which is to say, everything," she replied swiftly, and the door swung open as the knocker replied, "Nicely phrased."

The common room came into view, along with Alecto's unconscious form upon the middle of the floor. Her brother gave a shout and ran over.

"What've they done, the little whelps?" he screamed. "I'll Cruciate the lot of 'em till they tell me who did it - and what's the Dark Lord going to say?" he shrieked, standing over his sister and smacking himself on the forehead with his fist, "We haven't got him, and they've gone and killed her!"

"She's only Stunned," said Civia impatiently, stooping down to examine Alecto. "She'll be perfectly all right." _Unfortunately_, she thought.

"No she bludgering well won't!" bellowed Amycus, his lumpy face becoming a blotchy red. "Not after the Dark Lord gets hold of her! She's gone and sent for him, I felt me Mark burn, and he thinks we've got Potter!"

"'Got Potter'?" said the Potions Mistress sharply, "What do you mean, 'got Potter'?"

"He told us Potter might try and get inside Ravenclaw Tower, and to send for him if we caught him!"

"Why would Harry Potter try to get inside Ravenclaw Tower! Potter belongs in Gryffindor!"

"We was told he might come in here!" said Carrow. "I dunno why, do I?"

Civia stood up and her eyes swept the room.

"We can push it off on the kids," said Amycus to himself, his pig like face suddenly crafty. "Yeah, that's what we'll do. We'll say Alecto was ambushed by the kids, them kids up there"—he looked up at the starry ceiling toward the dormitories—"and we'll say they forced her to press her Mark, and that's why he got a false alarm... He can punish them. Couple of kids more or less, what's the difference?"

"Only the difference between truth and lies, courage and cowardice," said Civia sharply, now pale, "a difference, in short, which you and your sister seem unable to appreciate. But let me make one thing very clear. You are not going to pass off your great many ineptitudes on the students of Hogwarts. I shall not permit it."

"Excuse me?"

Amycus moved forward until he was offensively close to her, his face within inches of hers, towering above her even with his short stature. She refused to back away, but looked at him as if he were something disgusting she had found stuck to the lavatory seat. In truth, he was twice as putrid.

"It's not a case of what you'll permit, Civia _Snape_. Your time's over. It's us what's in charge here now, and you'll back me up or you'll pay the price."

And he spat in her face.

Before Civia could hex him into the next decade, to curse him shitless, a boy suddenly appeared seemingly out of midair, wand drawn.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said fiercely, shocking both of the professors, the newest of which spun to face the intruder.

"_Crucio!_"

Civia was frozen as she watched as her nephew—_her nephew—Harry!_—shouted the curse and the Death Eater thrashed and howled in pain, flung off his feet. Finally, Amycus smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumbled, unconscious, to the ground.

He blinked. "I see what Bellatrix meant, you need to really mean it."

Then, finally, Civia recovered from the shock and hurtled to Harry, pulling him into the tightest hug she could give him. "Harry! You are here—really here! What—why?"

"We need to find Ravenclaw's diadem," he supplied quickly.

Her eyes bulged. "The last one?"

The boy—who looked more a man now—nodded. "Besides only the snake."

Glee and fright filled her—negating each other. She knew that four of the six Horcruxes were gone, but that meant Harry's final confrontation with Voldemort was only closer.

Eyes finding Amycus's unconscious form, Civia grimaced and scolded the boy. "You should not have done that, Harry! It was foolish!"

"He spat at you!" Harry exclaimed furiously.

A scolding look appeared on her face. "Alecto used her Mark, didn't she? Amycus knew you were in here."

There was a ripple in the air and another appeared—Luna! The girl spoke calmly. "I Stunned Alecto after she did."

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter. He's coming here now, already on his way."

Before she could reply, there was movement in her peripheral vision. Amycus was stirring. Her wand pointed towards him. "_Imperio._"

Amycus got up, walked over to his sister, picked up her wand, then shuffled obediently to Civia and handed it over along with his own. Then he lay down on the floor beside Alecto. The Potions Mistress waved her wand again, and a length of shimmering silver rope appeared out of thin air and snaked around the Carrows, binding them tightly together.

Harry spoke then, pained, "Time's running out, Voldemort's getting nearer, Civia, I must find the diadem! But we've got to get the students out while I'm searching the castle—it's me Voldemort wants, but he won't care about killing a few more or less, not now that he knows I'm hunting—" _Horcruxes_, both of the Potters thought silently.

Civia nodded resolutely. "We shall secure the school against Voldemort while you search for the diadem."

"Is that possible?"

"I think so," said the witch dryly, "we teachers are rather good at magic, you know. I am sure we will be able to hold him off for a while if we all put our best efforts into it. Of course, something will have to be done about Snape—"

"Let me—" Harry began, but she waved him off and continued.

"—and if Hogwarts is about to enter a state of siege, with Voldemort at the gates, it would indeed be advisable to take as many innocent people out of the way as possible. We will have to use the passage in the Room of Requirement."

"You know—?" Harry asked, shocked.

Civia snorted. "Of course. I've been tutoring the entire DA this year." She pointed her wand at the Carrows, and a silver net fell upon their bound bodies, tied itself around them, and hoisted them into the air, where they dangled beneath the blue-and-gold ceiling like two large, ugly sea creatures. "Come. We must alert the other Heads of House. You'd both better put that Cloak back on."

She marched toward the door, and as she did so she raised her wand. From the tip burst three beautiful screech owls, who took flight down the corridors…followed swiftly by Civia, Harry, and Luna.


	21. Fight Back

**Chapter 21: ****The Sacking of Severus Snape**

"_**Fight back!  
You coward don't turn your back on me this time  
I knew it from the start your heart is black inside  
Half-Blood Prince it's time to pay for your every sin  
To get away you'll have to kill me like you killed him,**_

_**Like you killed him…"**_

**~ "Lightning-Struck Tower" by the Ministry of Magic**

**(The Ministry of Magic is my favorite Wizard rock band, though the reason is partially because they have several songs focused on Severus Snape: "Lightning-Struck Tower", "Snape vs. Snape", and "The Bravest Man I Ever Knew". I highly recommend looking up these songs if you're a Snape fan like me!)**

* * *

After finding Minerva in the hallways and swiftly explaining, Civia had sprinted though the corridors, her godmother beside her, with Harry and Luna invisibly behind them.

But upon hearing the slightest noise ahead, the two professors halted, wands raised.

"Who's there?" demanded Civia sharply.

"It is I," came the low reply as a black-cloaked figure stepped out from behind a suit of armor.

Her heart leapt to her throat. It was Snape.

Suddenly, Civia realized that in her haste to avoid his presence, she had neglected to see the changes in his appearance.

His hair looked greasy as ever, hanging in curtains around his now, much thinner face. His obsidian eyes looked dead, completely apathetic, as if having given up living. The sparkle she had seen in his eyes so many months ago was gone. He was thinner, slowly wasting away, though he tried to hide it through his thick layers of clothing, she knew. But he still held his ebony wood wand, ready.

His dead black eyes swept over Minerva first, but his gaze lingered on his, and she saw something change in his stance.

"Where are the Carrows?" he asked quietly, eyes on her.

"Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus," Minerva told him, her voice practically at absolute zero, as it always was now whenever the new Headmaster was concerned.

Severus' eyes flicked to the air around the two women, as if knowing Harry was there. "I was under the impression," he replied, "that Alecto had apprehended an intruder."

"Really," asked Minerva, probably not trusting Civia to speak to the man who'd betrayed her most deeply, she expected, "What gave you that impression?"

He moved his left arm in a slightly flexing motion. _The Dark Mark_.

"Oh, but naturally," the Transfiguration teacher said, "You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication. I forgot."

He did not appear to be listening, eyes concentrated on Civia suspiciously. "I was not aware it was your night to patrol the corridors, _Civia_," he sneered.

"You've an objection?" she asked tightly.

"Only wondering what has brought you out of bed at this hour."

"Hard as it is to sleep with Death Eaters running and lingering everywhere, I had more trouble sleeping than the norm," she replied with ease, "Though I thought I heard a disturbance."

"Really?" he asked doubtfully, "All seems calm." Pausing, he was slowly moving closer as he stared into her eyes, obsidian boring into amethyst, giving her the impression of prey being pinned before the predator issued the killing stroke. "Have you seen your _nephew_, because if you have—"

Civia did not let him finish. All the anger and hate, hurt and heartbreak, all the emotion she had bottled up and had festered burst forth as she whipped her wand in a motion so fast, it may have been thought to have been imagined by another. The curse would have knocked anyone else unconscious, though she knew he would deflect it.

True enough, the Headmaster did, throwing a Shield Charm up with surprising speed, or it would have been surprising to anyone who knew Severus less than she did.

Flames roared from her hands, pouring like water from a hose, circling her and her opponent, keeping him from Minerva, Harry, and Luna. She saw, from her peripheral vision, Minerva back away unwillingly, obviously wishing to join.

A stunning spell shot at her, but she parried it. A flicker of the fiery circle around them separated itself and shot at Severus. He transfigured it midair into a great black serpent. Blasting it to smoke, it vanished before Civia.

The flames blocked their duel from the others, and the roar of the blaze blocked out any words—shouts or otherwise.

"You vile man!" she screamed, "Betrayer! Traitor! Deserter! Turncoat! Backstabber!" With every word, another spell was shot at him.

"Civia!" he suddenly yelled, desperate against her barrage. "Please!"

"Why should I, Severus?" she yelled vehemently, "You said it yourself! You tricked me into helping you then seduced me with sweet nothings whispered into my ear! Why should I show you any mercy? Because you killed Albus, the first person to trust you implicitly? Because you broke my heart and soul inside not only that day in June, but also every day since? Because you cut of George Weasley's ear? Because you took our only haven and changed it into hell? Because you allow the students who sought sanctuary here be tortured daily?

"Because you so openly scorn my past love for you? Because you took everything I had and more, then threw it away, shattering everything that means anything to me—my only family, my students, my home, my shreds of confidence, my freedom, my heart, my _self_?"

"Civia!" he screamed, not sending one spell at her, his wandwork purely in defense.

"Why?" she demanded coldly, her barrage pausing as her wand rested a hair's breadth from his black heart.

Part of her—the part that was his, and remained so—ached and throbbed painfully. It broke her heart to see him—the strong, private, loving man she had known—begging for mercy. But her rage-for so long pent up and now finally released-drowned out any merciful impulses.

Severus looked indecisive, torn between fleeing and speaking to her.

But instead of replying or fleeing, he closed the space between them, bending his head down to her level and pressing his lips to hers.

She fought for a moment, trying to shove him away, but he grabbed her wrists gently, pulling her against him.

In the time that had passed—nearly a year—since this had last happened, she had forgotten what this was like, really kissing him.

It was everything those ridiculously cheesy romance novels dreamed of, but so much more. He was insistent, determined, but his lips were gentle, caressing her own, soft and warm. The embrace he held her in was warm and felt inevitably like home after a long time away.

Then, she gave up trying to fight it and gave in, leaning into his embrace, kissing back, pulling him closer. Their tongues mingled, dancing together in the reunion.

When he broke the kiss, he looked to her face somberly, his gentle, endlessly black eyes boring into her own wisteria eyes.

"I love you," he murmured, resting his chin on her head gently, her errant inky curls tickling his nose.

They were still surrounded by the flames she had conjured, hiding them from the others' views, and vice versa.

"Why?" she whispered, her voice steadily growing louder in a sob. "How? How can a Death Eater love me, the eldest Potter left, Harry Potter's aunt, major member of the Order of the Phoenix? How can you after everything you've done—betraying us, killing Albus, cutting off George's ear, forcing my nephew into hiding like a fugitive, taking over our home—our last sanctuary—and turning it into hell, mocking me and our relationship, allowing students to be tortured, and torturing me yourself! How can you? How _dare_ you?"

Civia tore herself from his grasp, shoving him away.

"Civia, please—"

"NO!" she screamed, despair and betrayal supersaturating her voice, as she threw spell after spell at him.

In a flash, the roaring inferno encircling them converged to a single point—where Snape stood.

He barely managed to block the flames in time, stumbling backwards. With a flick of her hand, the smoke changed into gleaming daggers that flew towards him.

Vaguely, from behind her, she distinctly heard Filius shout, "Civia!"

Snape barely managed to block by forcing a suit of armor in front of him, the daggers sinking into the metal with echoing, metallic clangs.

"No!" squeaked Filius Flitwick, rushing forwards. "You'll do no more murder at Hogwarts!"

His spell hit the suit of armor, which came to life with a loud clatter. Civia was still as she watched the Potions Master struggle free, sending it flying backwards to Filius and Minerva and Pomona, who were at her side.

He fled into a classroom, with Civia at his heels.

"Don't you dare flee, coward!" she screamed.

But he continued at the large window, smashing through the glass, leaving a humorously Snape-shaped hole in it. He took flight into the air, but paused, looking back at her, regret and pain in his eyes, before he vanished into the night, taking with him a piece of her heart.

"COWARD!" she screeched, which changed into a sob.

With a start, Civia realized that she'd been crying, with tear stains all down her face and cheeks.

"What happened?" asked Minerva as she, their colleagues, Harry, and Luna followed into the classroom.

"He jumped," she whispered tearfully, eyes following the moving object in the sky.

"You mean he's _dead_?" asked Harry, half hoping and half incredulous, rushing to the window, ignoring Filius and Pomona's yells of shock at his appearance out of thin air.

"No," Minerva replied grimly, "Unlike Dumbledore, he still had his wand."

"Civia, are you alright?" asked Luna softly, resting a hand on the woman's arm.

"Yes," she said quietly, aware of all eyes on her. "Quite."

Harry did not believe it. "Did he hurt you?" he asked worriedly, though she could see the fury in his eyes.

"No," she reassured him softly, wiping away her tears. But Harry was not comforted. "Has he…has he hurt you at all this year?"

Once more, she shook her head. "No, not in the sense you mean." Swallowing the lump in her throat, she softly, brokenly explained, "I loved him, damn it!" A sob escaped before she continued. "I fell in love him last year, when I first came. He was a different person it seemed—I thought he truly did care for me…" Her voice suddenly became bitter, "But I guess I was just another stupid, meaningless little whore to him…"

"Civia!" exclaimed Minerva in shock. "I'm sure he didn't—"

"He did," she replied flatly. "He said so himself, bragging about 'seducing' me with 'sweet words of nothing', whispered into my ear at night. You've heard him gloat about it to the blasted Carrow swine."

A cold, steely light lit her eyes, her hand gripping her wand tighter. "Don't kill him," she ordered emotionlessly. "I want to do it myself. Spread the word, too. I will be the one to kill him, if it is the last thing to do. I will show him the consequences of his deception and cruelty."

As they all left, Civia lingered, pausing to stare heartbrokenly out the shattered window, but then sighed and followed the others.


	22. Love and Tragedy

**Chapter 22**

"_**The greater the love, the greater the tragedy when it's over."**_

**~ Nicholas Sparks**

* * *

There was barely enough time to evacuate the students and provide a battle plan, of which Civia had worked upon all year, planning down to the finest detail of what the Order members and staff would be doing, as well as the fighters assigned under them.

All the Order had been summoned, heedless of any other duties.

Bill would be assisting Hagrid in gathering the magical creatures and beasts in and around the forest and Hogwarts—mainly the centaurs, Grawp, and Aragog and his family, whose debt she was finally calling in through Hagrid. The Gameskeeper was also gathering things like Blast-Ended Skrewts, Boggarts, Thestrals, and Hippogriffs. Remus was going to the Lake to rouse the Giant Squid and the merpeople. Minerva was setting the wards to last as long as they could, and fortifying the castle best she could with Filius—and animating the suits of armor and statues. Hestia was getting the House-elves to either leave or fight, to their choice. Aurora was in charge of the towers. Fred and George were using their trickery and gadgets with the secret passages. Civia had convinced Peeves to assist his former allies. Pomona and Neville were leading those in charge of the herbology plants like mandrakes.

Civia had been stocking up potions in masses for the majority of the year. She magicked them all to the hospital wing, which would soon surely be full of patients.

Meanwhile, word had spread among the Order and staff about her oath, and somehow even further to the students, who would glance at her—hopeful, but anxious.

Finally, the wards disintegrated around them and the battle begun.

Death Eaters converged on them swarming in masses like fire ants.

Explosions split the air, as well as the bangs of spells and yells and screams. The Potions Mistress focused on her task.

She began, of course, with Stunners and such spells, but then, when a clear opportunity appeared, with no chance of her hitting an ally if her enemy ducked, Killing Curses joined her arsenal.

The dark wizards and witches would not be holding back as they attempted to slaughter her students and friends, so why should she when their next victim could be one she loved?

Snape, it seemed, was nowhere to be found—whether by chance or his choice, he was lucky.

As her nephew and his two friends slipped under his Invisibility Cloak, Civia cast a Disillusionment Charm upon herself and hurried with them to the Shrieking Shack to find Voldemort, Nagini, and—in Civia's case—Snape.

She had sworn to kill the bastard, and she would fight to do so until her dying breath.

Together, the four of them crawled into the Shrieking Shack through the tunnel. The opening was just big enough for three to look through, so Civia silently and invisibly climbed out and stood just by the opening, out of the way but close enough to touch Harry if she reached.

Snape was before Voldemort, inches away from Civia herself. Her breath caught in her throat at his closeness. Voldemort himself was sitting at a table, the Elder wand in hands that toyed with it idly. Nagini was there, protected by a circular, faintly glowing shield that encased her completely. She would not be killed now, not with those wards…

"…my Lord, their resistance is crumbling—"

"—and it is doing so without your help," Voldemort cut in. "Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there…almost."

"Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please." Civia, knowing him so well, could both see and hear the desperation in his voice and demeanor. He stepped forward, past Civia.

Voldemort stood, and raised the Elder Wand—holding it as a muggle conductor would hold their baton—as he spoke. "I have a problem, Severus."

"My Lord?" said Snape, uncertain.

"Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"

A brief silence fell as the Potions Master fumbled for words. "My—my Lord?" he said blankly. "I do not understand. You—you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

"No," Voldemort disagreed softly, eyes on the wand. "I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand…no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago."

Despite the calm, musing look he currently had, she could sense the underlying fury. "No difference," he murmured again.

Snape did not speak for a moment, trying to find the right words. Civia bit her lip, despite herself. Voldemort began to circle the room. "I have thought long and hard, Severus….Do you know why I have called you back from the battle?"

For a moment, Snape said nothing, eyes on Nagini, and Civia knew the look as when his mind was reeling. "No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter."

"You sound like Lucius," he murmured, almost amused. "Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."

It was eerie how accurate his sentiment was.

"But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by one other than yourself—"

"My instructions to my Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends—the more, the better—but do not kill him…or," he sneered, "your wife.

"Speaking of her, I must enquire, why isn't she with child yet, Severus?" He paused. "If you do not have an heir yet, she may be given to someone new." Snape's eyes widened, shock and something else on his face, but Voldemort continued. "She is an extraordinary witch: pureblooded, powerful, intelligent, and is quite pleasant on the eyes. If you cannot produce an heir with her, I may take her for myself."

Civia's blood froze to ice in terror. Terrible a husband as Snape was, he was an angel in comparison to Voldemort.

"But it is of you I wanted to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter or your wife. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable."

"My Lord knows I only seek to serve him. But—let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can—"

"I have told you, no!" Voldemort exclaimed sharply, impatience burning in his tone. "My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen once I finally meet the boy!"

"My lord, there can be no question, surely—?"

"—but there _is_ a question, Severus. There is."

Voldemort stopped, still toying with the Elder Wand, staring at Snape through narrowed crimson eyes. "Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?"

"I-I cannot answer that, my Lord."

"Can't you?

"My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

"I-I have no explanation, my Lord." Snape was not looking at Voldemort now. His dark eyes were still fixed upon the coiling serpent in its protective sphere.

"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape's face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

"My Lord—let me go to the boy—"

"All this long night when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer." Snape did not speak.

"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

"My Lord—"

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."

"My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand.

"It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort simply. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: but then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue, and even Civia knew what it was.

"Kill."

There was a scream as Snape's face lost any color left and his eyes widened in horror as the snake's fangs pierced his neck. He struggled futilely to push the cage off him, but his knees gave way and he fell to the floor.

Civia had lurched forward at Voldemort's order in Parseltounge, toward Severus…

It that moment, she had a moment of emotional clarity. Despite everything that year and since Albus's death, she still loved him, with every shred of her heart and soul. The hatred she felt was the fact that she loved him still, and wasn't hatred towards him.

It had been hatred towards herself.

She had lunged for Severus, but hands had grabbed her, holding her back. Her mouth was open in anguish, trying to scream, though one of the trio had silenced her, most likely foresightful Hermione. Tears welled up and poured from her eyes behind her glasses as she watched her husband collapse at her feet.

"I regret it," Voldemort said coldly—not a hint of remorse or sadness in him. He turned and pointed a wand at Nagini's cage which drifted away from Severus, whose blood was pouring from his neck.

Voldemort swept from the room with Nagini in tow just as Civia's disillusionment spell lost its power and she turned visible.

At the same time, the trio released her, and she heard a high, keening—the sound of a wounded animal. With shock, she realized it came from her lips as she collapsed beside Severus, sobbing.

She was on her knees, turning his head towards her. "Severus?" Even to Civia, her voice was desperate. "Severus?"

His fingers were already upon his neck, trying to staunch the fatal bleeding. Harry was at her side, with Ron and Hermione behind him.

Severus' obsidian eyes found Civia's nephew, and he suddenly seized the front of his robes, pulling him closer.

"Take…it…." Severus' voice was a rasping gurgle—a mockery of the voice she had loved. "…Take…it…"

Suddenly, something more than blood was leaking from him, something silvery blue, neither gas nor liquid. Memories. Harry took a flask from Hermione and gathered them into it.

Blood was everywhere—soaking both Severus' and Civia's robes

When he was finished, Severus released his grip on Harry's robes and grabbed her instead.

"…Civ-ia…" he whispered.

Tears were overflowing in her eyes and sorrow overflowing in her heart.

Leaning down, she pressed her lips to his, kissing him like she never had before, trying to convey all she felt. He responded weakly, but she could feel the emotion behind it.

"I love you, damn it, Severus Snape," she said against his lips, saying it to him for the first time. "You can't leave me, Severus!"

"…Civia…I love you…" He said, his voice weaker than ever…But she kissed him again, quickly.

But then Severus' lips slowed under hers and the hand holding Civia thudded to the floor and he went limp, his head falling to the floor too.

"No…Merlin, no," she whimpered, digging in her pockets to find a potion to help him—Severus couldn't be gone. He couldn't. It was a fact that Civia simply could not accept.

"Civia…" Harry said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "He's gone, Civia."

"No," she snapped, her voice harsh and thick as she lashed out. "Go, Harry. All of you. _Go—now! Get out—__**go**__!_"

His hand left her shoulder and she heard them leave, just as she put a hand over the wound that still wept blood. In a clear voice she began muttering incantations so quickly, it sounded like song—like how Severus had when he had healed her when Bellatrix stabbed her…

Then Civia found a Blood-Replenishing potion and uncorked it, pouring it precisely into his unmoving lips.

His beautiful, bottomless obsidian eyes were closed, his face paler than ever. She held his hand as she sobbed for a moment, hopelessness flooding her.

She knew she could go nothing.

Suddenly, the Shrieking Shack was illuminated in a brilliant red-gold light. Looking up, she was shocked to see Fawkes.

"Watch over him, Fawkes," she murmured, forcing herself to accept that Severus Snape was dead. "Let no Death Eaters touch his body. I'll return for him later…after the battle."

Staring at him for another moment, Civia leaned down and pressed her lips to his, as a final goodbye then stood and ran.

She ran like hell, sobbing along the way, for Severus. Her brave Severus—Death Eater or not, he was still hers—and the despicable hand fate and Voldemort had dealt him.

Severus was dead.

Already, Civia was dead inside as well.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, this is important guys, please read below:**

**I'm leaving on Thursday for a school trip and won't get back until the first week of May. Terribly sorry I have to end at this point, but...*shrug* **

**At least I'll be in Greece so you guys can't hunt me down and kill me. LOL.**

**But, wow. What a place to leave you, eh? Bwa ha ha ha. :D**

**To encourage me to update as soon as I get back, despite jetlag, you better review - better yet, to encourage me to hunt down an internet cafe. LOL.**

**SO REVIEW!**

**And wish me luck and safety in Greece!  
**


	23. My Immortal

**Chapter 23**

"_**You used to captivate me by your resonating light  
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind…"**_

**~ "My Immortal", Evanescence**

* * *

Civia hurtled into the Headmaster's office—Severus' office, she thought in despair—just as Harry shot past her, down the stairs. Not a single portrait was occupied, much less Albus'. Glancing around, she saw the Pensieve on the desk, silvery strands of memories already swirling inside. Not pausing to give it second thought, she dived in.

She landed in a nearly deserted playground, where two sisters were playing—Lily and Petunia Evans. Beside her, hidden in a clump of bushes, was Severus. He couldn't have been more than ten years old, scrawny and poorly dressed.

The Potions Mistress watched as Severus spied, but then came out and told Lily she was a witch after she demonstrated her magic, only to be rejected, though he slowly befriended her...

* * *

Soon, the scene shifted into the hallway of the Hogwarts Express. Severus—a year or so older this time, eleven—was rushing down it, finally coming to halt in front of a in which a group of rowdy boys were talking. Civia followed him inside, and paused on the threshold, remembering. She had gotten on board early, and found a seat in the only partially empty compartment, with only one red-haired girl of her own age inside, reading, though through wet eyes. Shyly, she'd asked if she minded joining her, to which Lily had smiled and shook her head. But her brother James had followed her in, with another boy she would come to know as Sirius Black. Severus entered last, sitting across from Lily.

"I don't want to talk to you," she said in a constricted voice.

"Why not?"

"Tuney h-hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore."

"So what?"

She threw him a look of deep dislike. "So she's my sister!"

"She's only a—" He caught himself quickly; Lily, too busy trying to wipe her eyes without being noticed, did not hear him. Civia noticed his obsidian eyes—so much younger than those she was used to—glance at her younger self, who did not notice - too absorbed in _Hogwarts, A History_, or so it seemed.

"But we're going!" he said, unable to suppress the exhilaration in his voice, looking back to Lily. "This is it! We're off to Hogwarts!"

She nodded, mopping her eyes, but in spite of herself, she half smiled.

"You'd better be in Slytherin," said Snape, encouraged that she had brightened a little.

"Slytherin?"

One of the boys sharing the compartment, who had shown no interest at all in Lily or Snape until that point, looked around at the word, and Civia, whose attention had been focused entirely on the two beside the window, saw her brother: slight—though even then thicker than she at the same age—, black-haired like Snape and her younger self, but with that indefinable air of having been well-cared-for, even adored, that Severus so conspicuously lacked…just as she.

"Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" James asked the boy lounging on the seats opposite him, Sirius, who did not smile.

"My whole family has been in Slytherin," he said glumly.

"Blimey," said James, "and I thought you seemed all right!"

Sirius grinned cheekily. "Maybe I'll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

James lifted an invisible sword. "'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' Like my dad."

Civia noticed her younger self roll her eyes, annoyed, without looking up from _Hogwarts, A History_.

Snape made a small, disparaging noise. Her twin turned on him. "Got a problem with that?"

"No," said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy – "

"Where're you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?" interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike. "Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment."

"Oooooo…"

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Snape as he passed, causing his sister to elbow him, though it was ignored.

"See ya, Snivellus!" a voice called, as the compartment door slammed…

And the scene dissolved once more…

* * *

Civia was beside the younger Severus again, facing the House tables, which were lined with rapt faces.

Minerva called, "Evans, Lily!"

She watched her then-future sister-in-law walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. The Deputy Headmistress dropped the Sorting Hat onto her head, and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair, the hat cried, "_Gryffindor_!"

Severus let out a tiny groan. Lily took off the hat, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, then hurried toward the cheering Gryffindors, but as she went she glanced back at Severus, there was a sad little smile on her face. She saw Sirius move up the bench to make room for her. Lily took one look at him, seemed to recognize him from the train, folded her arms, and firmly turned her back on him.

The roll call continued.

Civia found her younger self in the crowd of small first years with a bit of difficulty—she was still dwarfed among even them. She watched as her formed classmates all be Sorted, then, "Potter, Civia!"

Her younger self timidly walk up and sit on the stool. It had barely brushed her hair before it yelled, "_RAVENCLAW!_"

Severus had glanced away from Lily, curiously watching the younger Civia Potter hurry to the table of cheering dark blue and bronze clad students. Her older self did not miss the glint of recognition and curiosity in his eyes.

Her brother was then placed in Gryffindor, further ensuring the distance between the two. Finally, the younger version of the man she fell in love with was called.

"_Slytherin_!" cried the Sorting Hat immediately, barely having touched his hair.

And Severus Snape moved off to the other side of the Hall, away from Lily, to where the Slytherins were cheering him, to where Lucius Malfoy, a prefect badge gleaming upon his chest, patted Snape on the back as he sat down beside him…And the scene changed…

* * *

Civia watched an exchange she herself had witnessed years ago. It had been after their OWLs, and her twin and his gang had been harassing Severus. She'd seen him fly into the air and had been running to stop her brother—forgetting her shyness in that instant of anger.

But Lily had stepped in and went to Snape's defense. Distantly he heard Snape shout at her in his humiliation and his fury, the unforgivable word: "Mudblood."

It was odd seeing that rare moment of bravery in her younger self - perhaps foreshadowing the change she'd felt in herself since Lily and James' death. She'd been so timid then, so afraid of failing to succeed, though a fiery person waited beneath the shy surface. The death of her family had been the catalyst that triggered the change - forcing her from her shell, knowing there was no choice _but_ to succeed to save Harry...and later Severus too...

The scene changed…

* * *

This time, it was not much later, with Severus begging Lily to forgive him, and her spurning his apologies…causing him to turn to the Dark. She wondered if her sister-in-law knew that she had formed his fate - so intent was his hatred of James, and his need to show Lily that he was powerful and worth her, that it had consumed him, taking over his life then . . . leading him to the Death Eaters.

The corridor dissolved, and the scene took a little longer to reform: the Potions Mistress seemed to fly through shifting shapes and colors until her surroundings solidified again and she stood on a hilltop, forlorn and cold in the darkness, the wind whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees. The adult Severus was panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, waiting for something or for someone… His fear infected Civia too, even though she knew that she could not be harmed, and she looked over her shoulder, wondering what it was that Severus was waiting for – until Albus appeared, to whom Severus begged to save Lily…

"Hide them all, then," he croaked later, desperate. "Keep her – them – safe. Please."

"And what will you give me in return, Severus?"

"In – in return?" The Potions Master gaped at Dumbledore, and Civia expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, "Anything."

* * *

As hilltop faded, and she then stood in Dumbledore's office, and something was making a terrible sound, like a wounded animal, Civia Potter felt her heart break, not only for whom she loved, but also for the fact that Severus had been in love with Lily Potter. Even after all these years, she thought, feeling tears slipping down her face.

Severus was slumped forward in a chair and Albus was standing over him, looking grim. After a moment or two, the dour man raised his face, and he looked like a man who had lived a hundred years of misery since leaving the wild hilltop.

"I thought…you were going…to keep her…safe…" His voice was rough, hoarse from his cries, more defeated than she had ever heard before.

"She and James put their faith in the wrong person," said Albus. "Rather like you, Severus. Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?"

The other man's breathing was shallow.

"Her boy survives," Albus told him. With a tiny jerk of the head, Severus seemed to flick off an irksome fly. "Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?"

"DON'T!" bellowed Snape. "Gone…dead…"

"Is this remorse, Severus?"

"I wish…I wish I were dead…"

"And what use would that be to anyone?" said Albus in such a cold way it made Civia furious enough to wish she could slap him. "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear."

A cry escaped her lips—the cry of a wounded animal that had been stabbed in the heart.

Severus seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Albus's words appeared to take a long time to reach him.

"What – what do you mean?"

"You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."

"He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone—"

"The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."

There was a long pause, and slowly the mourning man regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last he said, "Very well. Very well. But never – never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear…especially Potter's son…I want your word!"

"My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?" Albus sighed, looking down into Snape's ferocious, anguished face. "If you insist…"

* * *

And now she stood in the headmaster's office yet again. It was nighttime, and Albus sagged sideways in the throne-like chair behind the desk, apparently semiconscious. His right hand dangled over the side, blackened and burned. Severus was muttering incantations, pointing his wand at the wrist of the hand, while with his left hand he tipped a goblet full of thick golden potion down Dumbledore's throat. After a moment or two, Dumbledore's eyelids fluttered and opened.

"Why," said Snape, without preamble, "why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?"

Marvolo Gaunt's ring lay on the desk before Dumbledore. It was cracked; the sword of Gryffindor lay beside it.

The Headmaster grimaced.

"I…was a fool. Sorely tempted…"

"Tempted by what?"

Albus did not answer.

"It is a miracle you managed to return here!" Snape sounded furious. "That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being – "

Dumbledore raised his blackened, useless hand, and examined it with the expression of one being shown an interesting curio. "You have done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?"

Albus' tone was conversational; he might have been asking for a weather forecast. Snape hesitated, and then said, "I cannot tell. Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time."

Dumbledore smiled. The news that he had less than a year to live seemed a matter of little or no concern to him.

"I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus."

"If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time!" said the Potions Master furiously. He looked down at the broken ring and the sword. "Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"

"Something like that…I was delirious, no doubt…" said the elder man. With an effort he straightened himself in his chair. "Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward."

Severus looked utterly perplexed. Dumbledore smiled.

"I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."

Snape sat down in the chair Civia had so often occupied, across the desk from Albus. She could tell that he wanted to say more on the subject of Dumbledore's cursed hand, but the other held it up in polite refusal to discuss the matter further. Scowling, Severus said, "The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed. This is merely punishment for Lucius's recent failures. Slow torture for Draco's parents, while they watch him fail and pay the price."

"In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have," said Dumbledore. "Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?"

There was a short pause.

"That, I think, is the Dark Lord's plan."

"Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?"

"He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes."

"And if it does fall into his grasp," said Dumbledore, almost, it seemed, as an aside, "I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students at Hogwarts?"

Severus gave a stiff nod. Civia felt her heart jerk a bit more, this time in regret.

"Good. Now then. Your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as to himself. Offer him help and guidance, he ought to accept, he likes you—"

"— much less since his father has lost favor. Draco blames me, he thinks I have usurped Lucius's position," Severus cut in.

"All the same, try. I am concerned less for myself than for accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."

The Potions Master raised his eyebrows and his tone was sardonic as he asked, "Are you intending to let him kill you?"

"Certainly not. You must kill me."

With a cry, Civia fell to the floor on her knees, sobbing in earnest.

There was a long silence, broken only by an odd clicking noise, besides her sobbing. Fawkes was gnawing a bit of cuttlebone.

"Would you like me to do it now?" asked Severus, his voice heavy with irony. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"

"Oh, not quite yet," said Albus, smiling. "I daresay the moment will present itself in due course. Given what has happened tonight," he indicated his withered hand, "we can be sure that it will happen within a year."

"If you don't mind dying," said Severus roughly, "why not let Draco do it?"

"That boy's soul is not yet so damaged," replied the Headmaster. "I would not have it ripped apart on my account."

"And my soul, Dumbledore? _Mine_?"

Another sob tore through her chest, knowing the pain behind the barbs.

"You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation," said Albus. "I ask this one great favor of you, Severus, because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year's league. I confess I should prefer a quick, painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if, for instance, Greyback is involved – I hear Voldemort has recruited him? Or dear Bellatrix, who likes to play with her food before she eats it."

His tone was light, but his blue eyes pierced Severus as they had frequently pierced the eldest Potter with the sense that her soul was laid bare for him to see. At last Snape gave another curt nod.

Albus seemed satisfied. "Thank you, Severus…"

* * *

The scene changed to an unfamiliar room. Lord Voldemort sat in a luxurious chair, practically a throne by the way he sat in it, surrounded by his followers. Severus was kneeling at his feet.

"Tell me, Severus, what news do you bring from Hogwarts?" the Dark Lord hissed.

"Civia Potter has returned," he announced, emotionlessly. As he paused, there were innumerable hisses of hatred, gasps of shock, growls for revenge, and the unspoken but obvious air of slight fear, conscious or no. Voldemort's face darkened, crimson eyes narrowing threatening. "Continue," he ordered.

"She has taken my place as Potions teacher while I was given the position of _Defense Against_," he sneered, "the Dark Arts. She was, apparently, hiding in the _Muggle_ world all these years."

"Does the boy know who she is?"

"I—I do not know. He seems to suspect something, but she is certain to inform him," he replied, a calculating look on his face.

Voldemort stroked the head of his great snake, Nagini, as he thought, with a distasteful look on his reptilian features. "She will surely tutor him in magic…and I can't have that Potter brat learning such things from anyone, especially _her_."

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner, Severus?" Voldemort asked warningly.

"My lord, the old fool would not allow me—"

"Do not speak to me about what that crackpot fool Dumbledore will _allow_ you to do!" the darkest wizard of the century yelled. "_Crucio!_"

Severus collapsed to the ground, flailing, twitching, his jaw visibly locked together to keep himself from screaming.

Civia found herself sobbing harder from just watching it.

What seemed like hours later, the Dark Lord stopped the curse. "You will make up your error to me, Snape. You will charm her, seduce her, whatever works. Distract her from teaching her nephew anything of use against me. Get yourself close to her, within her trust. You will have her wrapped around your finger, Snape. Trick her into helping us. You will do this, and if you do not, I will know."

With that, he dismissed the Potions Master. But on Severus' way out, several other Death Eaters, obviously distrustful of him, the three Lestranges among them, ambushed him. He had to fight them off, and managed to disapparate.

Civia watched him crawl through the gates and to the castle, along the way pulling out a dagger that had lodged itself in his stomach, via Bellatrix.

Finally, Civia realized when this was.

As he came into the Entrance Hall, he was bleeding too heavily, losing too much blood. Just as he collapsed, he—and Civia—caught sight of a single figure running to him, alarmed and worried.

Crouched beside Severus' swiftly losing consciousness form, she saw what he saw, from his eyes, via Legilimency.

A witch, with a halo of inky curls and alarmed, but bright lavender eyes, running to him…But then his eyes slid closed, and his consciousness dwindled into oblivion.

The memory did not change, however. Civia got the sudden impression this was several minutes later.

Severus opened his eyes infinitesimally, weakly. Still by Legilimency, Civia watched what he saw. He was now in her chambers, having been laid on the couch, and stripped of his cloak, outer robes, and shirt, as Civia's past self hurried to heal him.

Civia could feel his emotions and hear his thoughts.

There was a sudden cool, pain-relieving sensation he felt as her younger self healed the burn. As Burn Healing Paste was rubbed onto his skin, Civia sensed a rare flash of appreciation and surprise from him, before he lapsed into unconsciousness…

* * *

Then she was in the clearing, with Severus and her slightly younger self, where he was teaching her to fly. She watched it all, and them return to Hogwarts. He kissed her hand tenderly, and they parted. Civia followed him, and watched as, once in his rooms, he froze completely.

"_Expecto Patronum_," he whispered softly.

A small silvery shape formed, but flew out the window...vanishing into the night…

"Civia…" the Potions Master whispered, his mask gone, the wonder and tenderness plain for her to see…and maybe even love…

* * *

Then they were back in Dumbledore's office, the windows dark, and Fawkes sat silent as Severus sat quite still, as Dumbledore walked around him, talking.

Somehow, Civia knew, something by the look in his eyes—it was the same day, the day they'd spent in the meadow, when she had realized she loved him.

"Harry must not know, not until the last moment, not until it is necessary, otherwise how could he have the strength to do what must be done?"

"But what must he do?"

"That is between Harry and me. Now listen closely, Severus. There will come a time – after my death – do not argue, do not interrupt! There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake."

"For Nagini?" Severus looked astonished.

"Precisely. If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection, then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry."

"Tell him what?"

Albus took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort's soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsed building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort's mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die."

Civia was frozen, brilliant mind whirling, trying to find a loophole in his words.

"So the boy…the boy must die?" asked Severus quite calmly. He, too, sensed the lack of loopholes in the Headmaster's words.

"And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential."

Another long silence. Then he said, "I thought…all those years…that we were protecting him for them…For Lily at first…and now Civia." Her name upon his lips was a whisper, a prayer, knowing the pain it would cause her when she finally knew, that it caused her to see the memory...even if she had to.

"We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength," said Albus, his eyes still tight shut. "Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth. Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort."

The headmaster opened his eyes. Severus looked horrified.

"You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?"

"Don't be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?"

"Lately, only those whom I could not save," said the Potions Master. He stood up. "You have used me."

"Meaning?"

"I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep _Civia_'s nephew safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter—"

"But this is touching, Severus," said Albus seriously. "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"

"For him?" shouted Severus angrily. "_Expecto Patronum_!"

From the tip of his wand burst a beautiful, graceful, sleek screech owl, only about six inches in length. Civia froze, unable to breath, blink, look away, or move.

She circled the office once, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.

"After so little time?"

"Always."

* * *

The scenes shifted, and Civia found herself in the same room as the last time Severus met with Voldemort.

This time, however, it was only the wizard known as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" and the Potions Master. Severus was kneeling again, an emotionless look on his face.

"What is it you have to ask me, Severus?" asked Voldemort.

"It is Civia Potter, my Lord," he began, and said witch could sense anxiety behind his words, no matter his mask—she knew him too well.

"What of her?"

"She can, I believe, be of use to us, my Lord," Severus began smoothly, "She has come to trust me, and thinks me her _friend_. She has been useful, and I believe I may be able to turn her trust from the old fool Dumbledore to me."

"You believe you can trick her so?" asked Voldemort curiously.

Severus' face twisted into an arrogant sneer. "She is not quick to trust, but she has come to trust me. She believes us to have many things in common.

"I think I may be able to sway her loyalties. With some persuasion on my part, it could work."

Voldemort studied the Death Eater. "You care for her." It was not a question.

"I…desire her," Severus admitted after a long moment of silence. "She is a pureblood, and a powerful one. She could bear many powerful children, given the right partner."

"And you think you could be so?"

"Only if my Lord thinks so," he replied wisely. "I would never…pursue a witch without my Lord's permission."

"If you continue to please me, then you may have her, Severus," Voldemort said, with a perverse grin. "I shall expect her to bear heirs should you decide to take her as your wife."

"Of course, my Lord," replied the Potions Master.

"For this reason," the Dark Lord continued, "I shall order the others to spare her in case of a battle, and, should you fail in swaying her loyalties, to be captured for you. Am I to assume you wish to wed her first before bedding her?"

"I wish to follow wizarding tradition, my Lord," Severus said, then added, "I do not wish to father a bastard." Her heart broke for him, sensing disgust behind his words - not for the though of having a child in wedlock, but rather disgust at the lie.

"Of course, Severus. You have my permission to wed the Potter woman, whether it by her choice or by force."

"Thank you, my Lord."

Severus stood and walked out. Civia's thoughts swirled. He did it to protect her from other Death Eaters getting their hands on her and raping her.

All this time…it was to protect her.

* * *

And the scene shifted again. Now, Severus was talking to the portrait of Dumbledore behind his desk.

"You will have to give Voldemort the correct date of Harry's departure from his aunt and uncle's," said the portrait. "Not to do so will raise suspicion, when Voldemort believes you so well informed. However, you must plant the idea of decoys; that, I think, ought to ensure Harry's safety. Try Confunding Mundungus Fletcher. And Severus, if you are forced to take part in the chase, be sure to act your part convincingly…I am counting upon you to remain in Lord Voldemort's good books as long as possible, or Hogwarts will be left to the mercy of the Carrows…"

Now Snape was head to head with Mundungus in an unfamiliar tavern, Mundungus's face looking curiously blank, Severus frowning in concentration.

"You will suggest to the Order of the Phoenix," he murmured, "that they use decoys. Polyjuice Potion. Identical Potters. It's the only thing that might work. You will forget that I have suggested this. You will present it as your own idea. You understand?"

"I understand," murmured Mundungus, his eyes unfocused…

* * *

Now Civia was flying alongside Snape on a broomstick through a clear dark night, much as if she were flying using the skill he had taught her. He was accompanied by other hooded Death Eaters, and ahead were Minerva and a Harry who was really Civia herself… A Death Eater moved ahead of Snape and raised his wand, pointing it directly at Civia's back.

"Sectumsempra!" shouted Severus.

But the spell, intended for the Death Eater's wand hand, missed and hit the Potter who was George instead –

Then Civia's younger self as Harry leapt from the thestral, flying on her own at him as the Polyjuice ended, fury highlighting her eyes…they dueled…but then she lost consciousness because of Voldemort's spell and began to fall. Severus flicked his wand, and her descent slowed as she gently floated downwards towards her original destination below…

* * *

And now Snape stood again in the headmaster's study as Phineas Nigellus came hurrying into his portrait.

"Headmaster! They are camping in the Forest of Dean! The Mudblood – "

"Do not use that word!"

"—the Granger girl, then, mentioned the place as she opened her bag and I heard her!"

"Good. Very good!" cried the portrait of Dumbledore behind the headmaster's chair. "Now, Severus, the sword! Do not forget that it must be taken under conditions of need and valor – and he must not know that you give it! If Voldemort should read Harry's mind and see you acting for him—"

"I know," said Snape curtly. He approached the portrait of Albus and pulled at its side. It swung forward, revealing the hidden cavity behind it from which he took the sword of Gryffindor.

"And you still aren't going to tell me why it's so important to give Potter the sword?" said Severus as he swung a traveling cloak over his robes.

"No, I don't think so," said Albus's portrait. "He will know what to do with it. And Severus, be very careful, they may not take kindly to your appearance after George Weasley's mishap – "

Snape turned at the door.

"Don't worry, Dumbledore," he said coolly. "I have a plan…"

And Severus left the room.

* * *

For the last time, the scene reformed into a corridor. Civia's throat constricted.

She, herself, from only hours earlier, was rushing down the corridor, with Minerva and, invisibly, Harry and Luna.

The Potions Mistress wept as she watched her younger self drive the love of her life—her soul—from their home, and saw the look of sorrow, of love, of heartbreak, of grief, as he looked back to her as he fled before he was too far away too see her face.

Finally, Civia emerged from the Pensieve, in the same office. Heavily, she seated herself in the throne-like chair behind the Headmaster's desk. Bowing her head, she sobbed, weeping tears of sorrow so heavily, she thought she would drown.

If she thought her heart broke when she heard Severus had killed Albus, this was her fragile heart being ripped from her chest, leaving her floundering, unable to do anything, not even save the ones she loved most.

Suddenly Civia heard a terrible noise, filled with all the pain of the world.

She wondered if it was the sound of her heart shattering beyond repair.

* * *

**AN: Hey guys - I'm back! Sorry I couldn't update sooner, but I only just got back and couldn't find free wifi in Greece in my freetime. Gr. XD. Anyways, I'm back safely, though I'm still waiting for my lost luggage to pop up and get delivered. Ugh.**

**Several chapters left - I'm sorry these are such downers.**

**ALSO - ANYTHING YOU RECOGNIZE BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING!  
**


	24. Shattered

**Chapter 24**

**_ "After a certain point, a heart with so many stress fractures can never be anything but broken."_**

**~ Jodi Picoult**

* * *

"Civia—what's wrong? What has happened?"

Minerva asked as soon as she saw the red eyes and still-flowing tears on the Potion Mistress's face. Said woman had come tearing into the Great Hall, to the group of the leaders—Minerva and the other Heads of House, Kingsley, Arthur, any Aurors, and the like.

"He's gone!" she exclaimed, though the words came out in sobs.

"Who?" Concern was on all their faces and she felt a new welling of tears before she whispered, "Harry." Choking back a sob, she simply explained, "He's gone to Voldemort."

For a few moments, she said nothing as Kingsley dispensed assignments to go looking for him in different parts of the castle.

"Civia, breathe," her fellow Animagus instructed. "They will find him."

A sob escaped her lips as she shook her head. "Harry has James' Invisibility Cloak. He will never be found until he wants to."

"Why has he gone?" Minerva asked.

Literally choking down a new wave of tears, she summarized her experience in the Pensieve.

"…he was on our side the entire time, Minerva," she said, all her tears used, leaving her feeling spent and exhausted—not just physically and magically, but even more emotionally. "Severus had to kill Albus—he made him. All this time…all this year…he was on our side the entire time. Last year, before Albus's death, he requested that, if I was captured, I would be given to him—Voldemort thought it was so I would become another pure-blooded brood mare, but it was so he could protect me from being given to some other real Death Eater.

"Since about mid-last year, it was all for me—the lies and deceit and murder and betrayal he pretended to do—he did it for me, because he loves—loved—me."

"Love_d_?" echoed Minerva, confused at the past tense, before her voice turned urgent. "What happened?"

A fresh wave of sorrow enfolded her as she lifelessly explained the scene in the Shrieking Shack. But as soon as she finished, Civia froze, as well as everyone else in the room as a new voice filled it instead.

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.

"The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There will be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgotten, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

The voice fell silent, and everyone could only stare in horror.

Civia ran to the door, wand drawn, and slowly creaked it open and took in the scene.

"_NO_!"

Her scream was infused with the pain and sorrow and grief that no one would have ever imagined her feeling. It echoed in the hall, and in the silence outside. The knowledge of her nephew's death—the evidence before her—was simply not bearable for her as she fell to her knees. Behind her, Minerva came up and her scream was echoed, and soon she heard Hermione, Ron, and Ginny's as well. It took all her strength—strength supplied by the knowledge that Severus loved her, and by her hatred for Voldemort because he killed off all her family—to stop herself from collapsing, to halt the trembling of her knees to progress any farther.

Quickly, all the other fighters were out of the castle too, shouting and yelling at the Death Eaters, though the monstrous gulf between the two groups remained.

"SILENCE!" yelled Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of light as silence was forced upon them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

With slow, precise, and determined movement, Civia Snape stood straight, wand at a ready, emotions wiped form her face, in a true Snape fashion, through her tears glittered on her cheeks.

"You see?" Voldemort continued, relish in his tone for the victory he had…or thought he had. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing ever but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

Fury rose on Civia's face and she waved her hand rather dramatically, hastily with a bang to break the spell that held them silent, as she strode forward.

"You know nothing of Harry," she said with a glare. "And you have nothing over me!"

Voldemort stared at her for a long moment, looking her over. Malice and spite glittered in his crimson eyes. "Ah…Madam Snape. Lovely as ever to see you."

"Cut the shit, you reptilian arse!" she spat, and she could hear a collective gasp from both sides.

"Need I reiterate what I just said, Madam Snape?" he sneered.

"About slaughtering anyone who resists, as well as their family?" she spat in reply, before giving a harsh laugh. "What _family_?" she forced the word. "What family of mine can you possibly take? You've already killed them all! My parents—dead to Death Eaters before I finished Hogwarts? My brother and sister in law—killed by yourself sixteen years ago? My husband—slaughtered by the worm you call a snake not an hour ago? My nephew—?" She waved a hand in the general direction of the body of Harry, not looking away from the malicious red eyes.

"What else have I got left to lose?" she asked, and added with a feral, almost crazed smirk. "And a better question—how exactly do you think you'll take it from me?"

Voldemort snarled and silenced them all again. "Harry Potter was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, killed while trying to save himself—"

Suddenly, someone jostled by Civia, nearly making her fall over in their haste.

Neville charged forward, at Voldemort who gave an amused smile as he disarmed him as the boy hit the ground hand.

"And who is this?" asked the Dark Lord in a snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix gave a delighted cackle. "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord!" she exclaimed eagerly. "The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

"Ah yes, I remember," he replied calmly, looking down at poor Neville who was struggling to get up to his feet. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?"

"So what if I am?" bit back Neville loudly, hate enthusing his voice, standing with his hands clenched into fists.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over!" the boy spat forcefully, and he suddenly reminded Civia so much of his parents, tears came to her eyes. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted, and there was a cheer from the crowd in support.

Voldemort's Silencing Charms weren't holding over them.

"Very well," the Dark wizard spoke softly, like a snake hissing before it strikes. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head, be it."

He brandished his wand, and a misshapen brown lump flew from one of the broken windows into his hand, from which he held it, dangling, empty and ragged. The Sorting Hat.

"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," announced Voldemort. "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

He flicked his wand, and said student froze, rigid. Voldemort forced the Hat on Neville's head and simply said, as everyone waited with baited breath, "Neville here is going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me."

Again, the Darkest wizard of all time flicked his wand and the Sorting Hat burst into flames.

Screams split the dawn, and then many things happened at once.

Civia darted forward to help her student. What seemed like a hundred people were swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, yelling their war cries. Grawp, Hagrid's younger half-brother, came into view yelling for Hagrid, which caused Voldemort's giants to run at him like freight trains, causing the earth to shake beneath everyone's feet. Centaurs were pouring from the Forbidden Forest, armed with bows and arrows.

At the same time, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Spell and the burning Sorting Hat fell from his head, and a shining, silver and ruby object fell from its depths. The boy grasped the bejeweled handle at once.

With a metallic ring, the sword of Godric Gryffindor slashed through the air—shining brilliantly—and then, with a single stroke, Neville sliced off the great snake's head, which was flung into the air gruesomely and its body fell to the ground at Voldemort's feet.

The battle recommenced.


	25. Prepared to Die

**Chapter 25**

"_**Being prepared to die is one of the great secrets of living.**__**" **_

**George Lincoln Rockwell**

* * *

The instant Nagini's severed head hit the ground, Civia leapt into action, blocking Voldemort's curse she knew would follow his scream of outrage.

Duels and fighting flared instantly, the battle already rekindled. She was the first to reach Voldemort, to dare draw him into a duel in his fiery rage—though his anger was a candle to the burning torch that was her own fury and sorrow, igniting them even more—exchanging a candle for a bonfire.

Merlin—look what had happened, she thought. The two people she would die for, the two she loved, were both surely dead, and it was most surely her fault. Severus—dear, dedicated Severus—would not have been attacked by that horrific serpent if she hadn't driven him from their sanctuary. And Harry, oh God, Harry—Lily and James's boy—her only blood left—he'd never have walked to his death if she'd been quicker and reached him in time to stop him.

As she threw a vicious spell at Voldemort, Civia engaged the darkest wizard of all time in a duel and suddenly realized that she no longer cared if she died or lived.

What life would it be, without Severus and Harry? Already, she was dead inside, as if her heart had died twice in a night—once with her husband, and yet again upon seeing Harry's limp form…

Tears were streaming from her eyes as she ducked and dodged and wove and spun, with the inky curls flowing through the air around her head.

Eventually, she was in the Great Hall, surrounded by duels—all of which had a student, member of the Order, staff member, student family member, friend, or ally as the victor—and had Minerva and Kingsley at her side. Civia was spread thin, involved in more than she should be, but no less than she would have it. Whenever possible, a spell was shot to a surrounding duel, aiding an ally and hindering an enemy. As it was, she was seriously involved in two duels—Bellatrix and Voldemort.

From the corner of her eyes, she watched as the three girls that were attempting to help her in dueling the female Death Eater nearly be hit by the Killing Curse. Minerva and Kingsley could surely manage for a moment—

And Civia leapt in front of the girls, pushing them back, taking up the duel with the mad woman that was her first cousin, once removed. "Back!" she ordered her students—Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, who all reluctantly fell back.

Bellatrix was cackling madly. "Couldn't save your nephew, could you, _Snape?_" she sneered, as if trying to insult her through Civia's married name. In response, she threw out a fearsome spell conjuring flames that surrounded the Death Eater, and Bellatrix visibly winced at the temperatures. Using the flames as a distraction, Civia sprinted closer and the flames dissipated, just before the Potions Mistress threw a Killing Curse out.

Bellatrix nimbly dodged, laughing, deranged, all the while. "Hit a sensitive spot, hm? I quite thought you and Snape were quite suited—two cowardly people who could only ever play with their potions kits!"

"Don't you dare call him a coward!" Civia spat viciously, as she jumped and rolled to avoid the Cruciatus Curse. "He had more brains, power, and bravery than any of you!"

"And who will you be forced to marry when the Dark Lord wins?" she taunted, "Because of your new status as a widow, of course. Not that you had much of a choice in the first place."

Fury swam in Civia's blood, making it boil. "I will never marry again!" she yelled, blasting away the Bellatrix's spells with no more than flicks of her wrist. "I love Severus and I'll _never_ love another!"

The ferocity in her tone and determined set of her jaw only made her more intimidating, and with a diamond-like tone—hard, clear, and resolute—she exclaimed the words that were long overdue.

"_Avada Kedavra." _

The words, like her last pronouncement, echoed in the Great Hall, as emerald flew from her wand to Bellatrix.

The curse flew both slowly and swiftly—fast in speed but seemed slow in her perception, and both parties knew the effect before it happened. Bellatrix was in the middle of her deranged, exhilarated laugh when the Killing Curse hit her squarely in the chest. The gloating smirk froze, and her eyes bulged in a last moment of realization. Voldemort's second in command, the last Death Eater, collapsed to the floor, dead.

The crowd of survivors roared in victory, but then several things happened at once.

There was a yell of fury from behind her—Voldemort—echoing her own words. But as she spun, there was a brilliant flash of flames as Fawkes appeared and swooped down in front of her, opening his beak wide, and swallowed the Killing Curse. He burst into brilliant flames—causing many to scream—and fell to the floor, tiny, wrinkled, flightless in a pile of ash.

Further enraged, Voldemort threw another Avada Kedavra at her, though Civia instantly dropped to the floor, dodging the deathly spell, and scooped up the baby Fawkes into her pocket before righting herself.

Crimson eyes glittered malevolently as they bore into hers, each staring the other down.

"You'll pay for that, _Snape_," spat Voldemort, "just as your wretched nephew and bloody husband did."

He barely managed to parry her _Sectumsempra_ curse, and then Voldemort's rage suddenly exploded with the force of a bomb, directed at Civia. While Minerva and Kingsley were thrown off their feet and landed some feet behind their previous spots, Civia was thrown almost directly straight up into the air. It was all she could do to try to protect the vulnerable baby phoenix in her pocket before she landed, hard, on the stone floor, her head connecting with it with a painful force that caused the Great hall to go black for a long moment before her vision cleared. Vaguely, she heard her wand clatter to the ground beside her. Then, she realized what had happened. As she'd been thrown into the air, someone had screamed "NO!"

Then, with shock and confusion, Civia watched, from the ground as someone pulled off an Invisibility cloak—Harry._ Harry_, her nephew Harry, dead Harry, was standing there…alive…not dead…

Harry was alive.

She watched, with spinning vision and waning consciousness as Harry and Voldemort circled, speaking…

_Severus_, she heard with a pang through her chest, and listened.

"…Severus Snape wasn't yours," Harry told Voldemort adamantly, "Snape was Dumbledore's, Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle—especially since early last year, did you?"

Voldemort didn't answer, malevolent eyes glittering coldly, as if wanting to know what Harry knew before he killed the Boy Who Lived.

"For most of his life, Snape's Patronus was a doe, the same as my mother's, because he loved her most of his life, from when they were children to about last year. You should have realized. He asked you to spare her, didn't he?"

"He desired her was all," Voldemort sneered, "but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him, like the _great_ _Civia _Potter—"

"Of course he said that," interrupted Harry, "And then last year he asked you to spare Civia, didn't he?" He paused, but didn't allow him to answer. "He was in love with Civia by then, and knew he was risking her life if you found out. He asked you to allow him to marry her if she was caught. And you played right into his hand!

"You never saw either of his Patronuses, before or after. It was an owl—it has been for over a year now. An owl—just like his wife's.

"If anything, that only put Snape's loyalty to Dumbledore and the Order more than ever before."

And they continued, the subject of Severus and herself dropping, blissfully…

At least they knew now…the secret would not die with her or, should her nephew fail, Harry. The Wizarding World now knew…that Severus was on their side, her side, the entire time.

Anxiety and pain were swirling in her, pain from injuries and anxiety for her only family left. But she clung with all her draining strength to consciousness; she had to know that Harry lived—

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Civia watched, desperately clutching at the last shreds of consciousness as the spells collided. Voldemort's wand flew into the air, into Harry's hand, and then—Voldemort fell, dead, with an air of mundane finality…

Harry had won. Voldemort was gone…

But so was Severus…her Severus… her husband… her love… her Severus…

Pain bloomed, simultaneously in her head and in her heart, and her eyelids fluttered shut as she slipped into unconsciousness, her last thought hardly a whisper, a whimper, a prayer.

…_Severus…_

* * *

As Harry was surrounded by cheering people, all but one of the most important to him, Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick were at that said person's side.

Civia certainly needed to see a Healer—soon. In her manic fervor to end Voldemort and his Death Eaters, she had disregarded her safety. She was bloody and, crumpled on the ground like that, looked tiny and vulnerable, like a small child. As the two Heads of House worked to get her to the Hospital Wing via a stretcher, Minerva tried to take inventory of the Potions Mistress' injuries.

She had hit the ground hard, and the noise her skull had made hitting the floor did not bode well. Almost certainly she had a concussion. Innumerable cuts were visible, as spells had managed to cut so deeply, even through the fabric of her filthy, blood-stained frock coat.

It was likely she had internal injuries too.

Blood slowly and gruesomely dripped from the spot on the back of her head when it had made contact with the ground, and from the corner of her mouth. From her pocket, the tiny, rather ugly, baby phoenix crawled out onto her stomach with a worried trill.

Minerva shook her head sadly. Civia would need to be strong and weather out the recovery…but what would be her motivation, the Transfiguration teacher wondered sadly. She loved Severus, she had since last year, and had even through his supposed betrayal…

If Severus was dead, Civia would not likely live long anyways.

After all, one could not live without their heart.


	26. Completed Solitude

**Chapter 26**

"_**In a **__**soulmate**__** we find not company but a completed solitude."**_

**~Robert Brault**

* * *

After Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the Headmaster's office, they went to the Hospital Wing, to see friends and family that were injured.

Harry hurried to Professor McGonagall, who was the first teacher he saw in the Infirmary. Pride was in her eyes as she watched him approach.

"Professor, where is Civia?" he asked quietly, trying not to be noticed by others.

Worry lined her face as she replied solemnly, "This way, Harry. Madam Pomfrey is with her now."

She lead him further down the wide hall, to a less populated area, and veered off to the right, and stopped.

His aunt was in the hospital cot, with gauze wound tightly around her head, and numerous bruises covering her exposed skin and dried blood was still on her face. In the big cot, she appeared even smaller than normal, all curled up—small, hurt, and…defeated, somehow.

She was asleep or unconscious, but not peacefully. Restlessly, she twitched and tossed and turned, her hands reaching out, clutching at the bed sheets desperately, and she muttered in her sleep, most of it unintelligible, though Harry distinctly heard her whimper softly before urgently calling out "_Severus!_"

Above her head, the phoenix—older, having grown in the couple hours since he'd took the Killing Curse for Civia, about half grown—sat on the headboard, resting above Civia and gave a sad trill.

Harry winced at the sight of seeing his aunt in pain. "How—how is she?"

Madam Pomfrey looked up from the potions she was putting down. "She should be fine. She has a severe concussion, and when you figure in the spell damage she suffered, I can't give her any dreamless sleep potions. She's been unconscious since she arrived, and has spent most of that time calling out for Severus," she finished in a sad whisper.

"But will she be okay?"

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, eyes lingering sadly on Civia's whimpering form. "Normally, I would say yes, but…I doubt her heart will be in recovering. Time will tell, my boy. Only time will tell."

* * *

When Civia awoke, it was late at night, and everyone else in the Infirmary was asleep, and all was quiet. She woke with a gasp. "_Severus!_"

After pulling on her glasses, with restless eyes, she observed her surroundings, and knew she had to do something before she could sleep.

By the sheer force of her will, the Potions Mistress forced herself to get up from the cot and stand, regardless of the pain. She was still in her frock coat from earlier. Briskly waving her hand, she transfigured it into a modest, dark blue dressing gown. Pulling it tighter around her, Civia strode through the Infirmary, peeking at every occupant, until—finally—she found her target in the farthest end of the wing, the bed's occupant hidden by the curtain around it.

Severus was in a cot, looking blissfully peaceful, his eyes shut.

Civia grabbed the edge of the bedside table, her knees wobbling in disbelief, as she saw the steady movement of his chest. A sob nearly burst from her before she covered her mouth, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.

He was alive. Oh, Merlin, Severus _wasn't_ dead.

Severus was alive.

Tears of joy and love clouded her vision, but she swept them away. Severus looked worn, with a few minor bruises, and thick bandages at his neck over the wound from Nagini.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep anywhere else, she carefully climbed into the cot with her husband, and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent—his heavenly scent that was like home—sandalwood, herbs, and something she couldn't name that was simply, distinctly Severus. With the warmth of him next to her, his scent in her nose, and the sounds of his breathing and heartbeat in her ears, Civia slipped into a blissfully dreamless, peaceful sleep, knowing there was no place better for her right now, than there.

Minerva and Poppy weren't expecting to find Civia gone from her cot, in the morning, though they certainly weren't expecting the find her where she was, though they should have.

It was heartfelt sight. Both were still asleep when they saw.

Civia had crawled in next to Severus, half curled up, lying on her side facing him. Her head was resting on his chest, above his heart. His face was buried in her messy raven curls. Severus' arms were around her, and she had grasped his hands in hers, their wedding rings side by side.

Despite their injuries and the pain they were surely in, both had soft, content smiles on their faces, though it was less obvious on the Potions Master's, of course. But it was a smile, and it was for a good reason. Severus would surely be exonerated and they would be free to be together, without secrets and spying and deceit.

There was hope for the Snapes yet.

* * *

**A/N: YAY! Now you can all stop being P.O.'ed at me! He's alive! Tee hee, and you all took me seriously.**

**Please don't ask HOW...all shall be explained next. Four more chapters. YAY!**

How many of you love me now?** LOL.  
**


	27. Flower

**Chapter 27**

"**The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all."**

**~ Disney's Mulan**

* * *

When Civia awoke in the morning, she felt as if she had woken from the most peaceful sleep she'd had ever. There were soft whispers around her.

"…should be fine, Severus, don't worry about her," said Minerva softly, "Civia will recover swimmingly now that she knows you are alright."

A gentle, familiar hand stroked her cheek in an unusual gesture of tenderness as he spoke, his voice weak and hoarse—caused by the damage to his throat, she knew. "Thank you, Minerva, for looking after her when I could not."

"There is no need to thank me, Severus," Minerva said, and Civia could hear the bittersweet smile in her voice, "She is my friend too, and it is the very least I could ever do to repay you for all you've done for us." There was a pause, "And thank you for protecting her, even when everyone thought otherwise."

Before he could reply, Civia heard her brisk footsteps trailing away from them.

Then, she sat up, opening her eyes, his hands grasped in hers.

Neither spoke for a long moment, simply staring at each other, taking in the other's weary, careworn face.

"Oh, Severus," Civia finally whispered, wrapping her arms carefully but tightly around him, face buried in his chest. "I am so sorry."

In return, his embrace was just as tight, holding her close as he buried his face in her erratic mass of raven curls, breathing in the unique scent that always followed her—a soft, warm mixture of fresh, earthy potions ingredients and a hint of sweet pomegranate.

She relaxed into the embrace, feeling like she was finally returning home after an incredibly long and dangerous trip.

"I should have known, I shouldn't have doubted you," she whispered, a tear escaping her eyes.

His hand rubbed circles in her back comfortingly. "You weren't supposed to know, and were supposed to doubt me, love. You had too. No one could know."

Civia nodded sadly as she looked up to him. "I know it would have endangered me, but surely you know I could have kept the secret—I am an Occlumens and Legilimens."

Severus's face softened as he looked to hers. "I knew Voldemort would eventually discover me as a traitor, and then kill me. While you were ignorant and hated me, I could bear dying—you would not, I thought, have cared much. I feared if you knew, you would try to stop me…and I would not have been able to refuse you. I had to comply with Albus' plan. And…I simply couldn't burden you with some of the knowledge, of Po—of your nephew's required sacrifice, or Albus' true means of death, or my…reasons for all this. I didn't want to burden you with the knowledge about…Lily."

Though she loved Lily—the best sister in law she could have ever asked for—Civia felt an undeniable twinge of childish jealously and looked down. The knowledge of Severus' past love for Lily hurt her, it was true. It made her doubt herself, if she could compare to Lily.

Instead of him speaking, Civia was surprised when a silver Patronus coalesced in front of her, resting on her knee. It was a beautiful, sleek, slender, graceful screech owl that looked up at her intelligently, with familiar eyes…

And she knew who it was, who it represented.

Before, his Patronus had been a doe—Lily's doe.

But now…the silver doe was gone, the owl in its place—her owl. Warmth bloomed in her chest—love and joy and relief all at once. It was just as it had been in the pensieve…and the thought caused more words to float into her mind in crystal clarity.

"_After so little time?"_

"_Always."_

Tears distorted her vision and her throat closed up. She didn't say a word, and only kissed him, allowing her actions to speak for themselves. There was something desperate in the way she pressed her lips to his, something urgent in the way her tongue caressed his own.

She kissed him as she had very nearly a year ago, and as if she hadn't in years. The love was tangible in the kiss, the way their arms wound around each other gently but tightly, as holding on to know the other was there, alive, and very much in love. Civia put all her feelings for Severus into the kiss.

Vaguely, she was glad that the curtains were drawn around them, ensuring their privacy.

When they finally separated, Civia's eyes were locked in his—wisteria lavender and obsidian black.

Only when she heard a musical trill did Civia break their shared gaze. Looking to Severus' left, at the headboard of the hospital cot, she was surprised to see—

"Fawkes?" she whispered in delight and thanks. The phoenix gave a cheerful trill in reply, hopping to her shoulder from the headboard. His feathers were mostly grown, with him only slightly smaller than usual.

"It was because of Fawkes and you that I am here," Severus explained quietly. "You healed the bite and gave me the potion—and told Minerva, who went to retrieve my body an hour or so after the battle ended. Fawkes cured Nagini's venom with his tears, and guarded me during the battle, until you needed him."

Civia flushed softly, stroking Fawkes' plumage. "I'm only glad that you are alive and will be well, Severus. Nothing else matters to me now."

* * *

While they were both recovering completely, both Snapes were confined to the Hospital Wing for a few days.

Despite Severus' hated reputation, there was no shortage of visitors.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the first of all these. Civia had pulled him into a tight hug though she gave him a whack on the head.

"You little git!" she said, torn between crying and laughing. "You just have to be like your parents, don't you—sacrificing yourself like that. But enough of that for now. I'm so proud of you, Harry, and James and Lily would be, too."

"Thanks, Civia," he said, before chuckling. "But you were pretty reckless, too, you know?"

She rolled her eyes, one hand intertwined with Severus' and the other on Harry's shoulder. "Of course I was," she said sadly. "I thought my only family—my husband and my nephew—were both dead, at the hands of that…that _monster_. Of course I was reckless. If defeating Voldemort meant giving up my life, then so be it. In that frame of mind, I had nothing to live for, not if I lived and you two were dead."

Severus squeezed her hand reassuringly as Harry nodded in understanding to Civia. Her nephew's eyes flicked to the ex-DADA teacher.

"Professor, I'm sorry for my behavior these past years," he said, after a moment of hesitation, "And I apologize for calling you a coward." Harry paused before adding, "You're probably the bravest man I've ever known.

"I know you don't really like me, but I'm willing to call a truce. For Civia, if nothing else." He offered his hand to his former Potions teacher.

Severus stared at the boy-who was technically his nephew too-for a moment as if thinking of something. "A truce then," he agreed, shaking Harry's hand, "I will admit most of my antagonism to you was misplaced, and I…regret that, as well. For Civia, I am willing to set aside our…mutual dislike. You have grown up, Potter," he added, almost reluctantly. "You are more like Lily than I ever expected."

Harry smiled gratefully, surprised at the praise, and turned to go, but paused and looked back. "Professor, I also want to thank you for protecting Civia, even when we all thought you had betrayed us. And…take care of her for me. But if you hurt her, you will regret it."

Severus replied, "It never will happen. I would die before I hurt her."

Harry nodded, satisfied, and left, with Ron and Hermione following, after wishing both the teachers well. Civia smiled, pride in her eyes, and kissed her husband again.

* * *

Members of the Order who weren't hurt followed, as well as members of the staff.

Minerva was a frequent visitor, coming and going quickly. Filius and Pomona had stopped by, too, apologizing profusely and asking how they were.

Then there was Kingsley. Minerva had told them that the ex-Auror had been chosen as the temporary Minister of Magic. When Civia saw him, she straightened, tense and nervous, with one arm around Severus' waist and the other itching for her wand.

But her worry was unneeded. He had come to tell them that Severus had been exonerated, and was free to do as he wished. But before he left, he had asked a surprising question.

"Did Minerva talk to you about plans for Hogwarts?"

Both their eyebrows had knitted together. "What do you mean, Kingsley?" asked Severus.

He'd looked at the Potions Master in confusion. "She did tell you that we wanted you to stay on as Headmaster, correct?"

"What?" The word came from both Civia and Severus.

Kingsley nodded. "Yes."

Severus' face was indecisive. "I will have to think about it, Kingsley. As of yet, I am not sure what I will do in the future."

The Minister nodded, agreeing. "Of course. I will let you rest, Severus, Civia. Good day."

When he left, Civia looked to Severus. "What do you mean you don't know what you'll be doing in the future?"

The Potions Master looked to her calmly. "I did not know whether you were planning to stay at Hogwarts or not."

Her face softened. "Oh, Severus. I was only planning to stay with you, no matter where you go. Were you thinking of staying at Hogwarts?"

"Though it would mean dealing with the little dunderheads, yes," he said, with a small smirk. Civia chuckled, but let him continue. "I think I would prefer to stay, though I wouldn't mind leaving. Although it is an honour to be the Headmaster, Minerva is better suited for the job, I believe. It is too much work for my liking, and I much prefer teaching Defense."

A smile flitted onto her face. "I am relieved. To be honest, it would be difficult to leave Hogwarts. It is home."

And it was for both Snapes.

* * *

When Minerva came to visit next, she had apparently spoken to Kingsley.

"So, Severus, have you decided?" she asked.

"Yes," the Potions Master replied tersely. "As dense as the dunderheads are, I prefer to deal with them over paperwork for running the school. If you'll allow it, I would prefer to return to my previous post as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

A smile tugged at the corners of the cat Animagus' mouth. "Somehow, I'm not surprised," she chuckled lightly. "Though, I would, then, at least like for you to be Deputy Headmaster."

Severus didn't reply for a moment, but slowly nodded. "I suppose I could do that." Minerva smiled and thanked him before leaving the two alone.

Civia smiled and kissed her husband, pulling him close, murmuring softly, "I love you, Sev."

A small smile appeared on the Potions Master's lips. Before he kissed her, he replied just as softly, "And I you, Civia."

* * *

**AN: Only the 3-part epilogue left. *phew***

**A small side note on the quote. A friend of mine didn't get it, and I want people to understand it. **

**First: adveristy, noun, meaning disaster, calamity.**

**The flower in said quote, in regards to this chapter, is their love. They fell in love during a war, despite that Civia's family didn't trust him, Severus was a right bastard at first ('scuse my language), and all the difficulties along the way-not to mention the events of that last year in the war. They fell in love during the worst of times and their love is only stronger because of that. **

**I've always loved that quote, because it can apply to so many things. Plus, I love Disney movies, horrible though they are at history.**

REVIEW - because our time together is short, now... ;)**  
**


	28. Epilogue I

**Chapter 28: Epilogue, part 1**

* * *

**Three Months Later**

**August 2****nd****, 1997**

**"**_**Love is like the wind, you can't see it but you can feel it**_**." ~ ****Nicholas Sparks**

After the months of grieving and rebuilding, the event was a welcome reminder that, as after all wars, though lives were lost, life continues.

Everyone—well, everyone important to them, that is—was there.

It was held at Hogwarts itself, in the Great Hall, which most of the staff had devoted a lot of magic to prepare the décor and everything else, along with several others. White and wisteria-purple decorations made the hall look even more elegant than ever before.

Although neither Severus nor Civia cared for an extravagant wedding—Severus actually didn't care as long as it made Civia happy, and she didn't care at all.

It was fairly small—within reason, really. Only good friends were invited. But the bride and groom didn't care.

Minerva, Molly, Tonks, Ginny, and Hermione had already prepped Civia. She was ready, at least, in regards to her appearance, she was. She was a nervous wreck inside, but was rather distracted by the shock of looking in the mirror. Somehow, they had found and brought out beauty that Civia didn't know she had.

The dress itself was beautiful. Delicate, intricate embroidery decorated the strapless satin bodice, and was echoed along the skirt hem. The soft satin was the pristine white of new snow. A short train flowed around her heel-clad feet. A flowing white veil fell to her elbows, from where it was pinned on the crown of her head. Her hair was down, in its usual ebony curls. Her rings were in place, complemented by the bracelet from Christmas 1996, the necklace, and the earrings, the latter two of which from Christmas 1997—all a matching set of gold jewelry with owl charms and emerald and sapphire jewels.

**http:/www**** (dot) davidsbridal (dot) com (slash) Product_Strapless-Satin-Ball-Gown-with-Beaded-Embroidery-WG3022_ Bridal-Gowns-Shop-By-Size-Petite**

"It's perfect, Minerva," she said, hugging her godmother.

There was a flash of crimson flames to their right, and Civia was delighted to see—"Fawkes!"

The beautiful phoenix trilled and gently landed on her shoulder, careful not to mess up all the work put into her dress and hair. Her familiar cocked his head to the side, looking at her, almost pensively, and let out a cheerful peal of phoenix song. Civia could feel the joy and pride the phoenix felt in the song.

The scene was interrupted as Harry cracked open the door. "It's time," he announced, smiling.

"Get in place," said Molly to the others, and she slipped out to join the rest of them outside the room while Harry slipped in.

"Ready, Civia?" he asked.

She nodded anxiously. "As I will ever be."

Her nephew grinned and took her arm gently as they stood before the doors. Then, the great oak doors to the Great Hall opened.

* * *

There was a collective sigh as the Great Hall's doors slid open to reveal Civia on Po—_Harry_'s—arm…with Fawkes the phoenix resting on her shoulder, only adding to her beauty as he let out the most beautiful phoenix song—filled with happiness and joy and hope.

Severus could only stare, mesmerized by the facts that this beautiful, wonderful, brilliant woman wanted to marry him…again, technically. A beautiful bouquet of fresh wisteria flowers and pure white lilies was in her hands. The meaning of her choice of white lilies in addition to the wisteria was not missed on the groom. She had lilies because of Lily—to remember her, but in the end, she was not brooding over Severus' past with her. He had loved her, but now he loved Civia, and she knew this, and accepted it, embraced it.

And, as she glided down the aisle, escorted by her (_their_) nephew, followed by her bridesmaids—Tonks, Ginny, Hermione, and Luna, all dressed in similar amethyst dresses. Civia herself was beaming, smiling at Severus with such love in her eyes, the Potions Master could not help but return with a smile—not a big one, but it still held all the love and joy he felt for her.

As she and _Harry_ reached him, the boy gave his aunt a peck on the cheek and said to both of them, "I know you and I don't always see eye to eye, Severus, but I wish you both all the joy in the world. I know you'll take care of her and protect her, and I can't wish for more than that."

Nodding to them both, he stepped back and took his place.

The pair took each other's hands, their eyes not leaving the other's face for a moment, even as the official from the Ministry began.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, and the couple remembered he was the same wizard as the one from Albus' funeral. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two souls…"

As the little wizard droned on, no one found it easy to concentrate on what he was saying.

In the front row, Molly and Minerva were sniffling into handkerchiefs. The male Weasleys in the audience seemed to be collectively spacing in and out of focus. Beside Bill Weasley, his wife Fleur was beaming happily. Behind the groom, Remus, his best man, was staring at his wife across the platform, in her light purple dress and, for this occasion, blond curls and grey eyes. Most of the Order was present, with the exception of Mundungus, who had not been invited—a decision agreed wholeheartedly upon by the couple of the hour. All of Hogwarts' staff was present, including Hagrid and his date Olympe Maxim in the back. Trumpet-like sounds made it obvious the Care of Magical Creatures teacher had brought out a tablecloth-sized handkerchief. Most of the women present, save the bride and bridesmaids and a few others, were sniffling and crying happily into handkerchiefs of their own. Andromeda and Ted Tonks held their young blue-haired grandson, who was the ring bearer.

Finally, the Ministry official reached the vows.

"Do you, Severus Tobias, take Civia Athena to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do you part?"

"With all my heart and soul," he replied, his eyes not moving from Civia's face. Tears appeared in her eyes, knowing how much he meant them.

The small wizard turned to her. "Do you Civia Athena, take this man, to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish 'til death do you part?"

Civia stared at Severus in love, and repeated his own word to Albus from so long ago, "Always."

"Then I declare you bonded for life."

Severus and Civia wasted no time in kissing tenderly, their love tangible in the kiss, ignoring the cheers from the audience—including a few cat calls lead by Fred and George Weasley.

After they separated, they were quickly surrounded by friends and well-wishers. Though during their greetings and congratulations, after she had slipped her right hand into his, their hands were never once separated.

* * *

**Four Months Later**

**September 1****st****, 1997**

"_**Victory is sweetest when you've known defeat.**_**" ~ ****Malcolm S. Forbes**

It took a long while to repair the damage the Battle of Hogwarts had done to the ancient school. Even with the entire staff, Order of the Phoenix, Ministerial help, and support of Hogwarts' students and their families, it was difficult to finish in time for the teachers to prepare for classes—but it was done.

Not only that, but Civia and Severus even mended the damage done to Albus' tomb by Voldemort, and fixed several other damaged parts of the grounds. They had returned to the place where Aragog and the Acromantula's home had been before they were ousted by Voldemort's minions and had cleared it of any evidence of their presence so the giant arachnids could rebuild their webs without trouble.

To their shock, Civia had found an old ring with a cracked stone—the Resurrection Stone, she knew, but didn't have the courage then to use it, and had buried it in her sock drawer until further notice. Parts of the forest, including a good portion of the centaurs' territory, had been destroyed by the Death Eaters, but restored by the Potions Masters.

In the matter of the castle's reconstruction, the most difficult parts had been the Grand Staircase and the re-enchantment of the Great Hall's ceiling. She and Severus had done a wonderful job, if Civia said so herself. Considering the enchantments—both the staircases and ceiling—had originally been designed, created, and cast by the founder Rowena Ravenclaw herself, they had done excellent.

The Potions Mistress peered up at the ceiling, where the sky was visible—the clouds painted reds and orange and pinks of the sunset.

Students had already come into the Great Hall, cheerful and chatting as ever as they seated themselves at the appropriate tables. Severus had gone to get the first years and the stool and Sorting Hat were already in place.

Minerva was in the customary seat for the Headmaster or –mistress, one seat away from Civia herself—separated by Severus' empty one.

Finally Severus appeared with the new students, who were doing their best to keep up with the Potion Master's long stride. This years' group was the largest Civia could ever remember, as many students who should have started last year couldn't—or were not yet told because of their status as Muggleborns—and were beginning this year instead.

The group stopped and the hall fell silent for the Sorting Hat's song.

**(AN: I'm not even going to try to write it. It would only end up painful to read.)**

Very much unlike the last two years' song, this year's was more like the songs she remembered from her years in Hogwarts—about the history of the school and its founders, but with a dash more emphasis on house unity than before, though victory and peace was evident in its words.

Slowly, Severus and the Sorting Hat got through all the new children, and he returned to his seat beside her. In greeting, she silently gave him a peck.

As Minerva nodded to him, Severus then carefully tapped his goblet with his spoon creating a clear note that echoed in the hall, and silence fell as the Headmistress stood.

"Welcome students, both old and new," she said warmly, "Before the feast begins, I have a few announcements.

"As you all most likely know, we have several changes in staff, as the previously titled 'Professors' Carrow are both residing in Azkaban." She paused, and there was a loud cheer from the older students, led by the seventh years.

"Professor Severus Snape has consented to return to his former post of Defense Against the Dark Arts," she continued. There was a round of applause—led by the older students and Civia with the younger students joining in hesitantly. "Professor Snape has also consented to take the title of Deputy Headmaster.

"And Professor John Smith has taken up the post of Muggle Studies."

Applause from all tables followed. When the students quieted, the Headmistress continued, "In addition, all rules added last school year are hereby obsolete."

Another cheer, almost as loud as the previous one, erupted—this one with teachers applauding and cheering just as happily as the students.

"Our caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind students that there is a blanket ban on all items bought at the shop called Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Any wishing to play on their House Quidditch team should give their name to their head of House as usual. As always, the Forbidden Forest is exactly that—forbidden—unless you have a teacher with you. Any students who enter will be given a suitable punishment by their Head of House as well as detentions with Mr. Filch.

"Finally, there is one small change in rules." The students shared surprised glances with each other. "In the many years since Hogwarts' founding, it has been a long-surviving rule of students eating meals only at their own House table. Hence forth, with the exception of the Welcoming Feast and during the Leaving Feast when the House Cup is awarded, all students are allowed to eat at any House table they chose." Minerva paused, and students were exchanging surprised looks. "If the wars against Voldemort should teach anything," she said gruffly, "it is that tolerance and interhouse unity should be much more common, and prejudice less so." She gave the entire room a pointed look.

"Now, enjoy the feast."

Severus nodded in approval as she sat down, and food bloomed on the platters and students eagerly dug in, the chatter resuming happily.

"That went well," Civia said to him, with a soft smile.

Severus' lips twisted in a slightly amused way. "I think the students are regretting my return as Defense teacher."

She laughed. "You're certainly better than the Carrows!" The newlyweds—or rather, the newly re-weds—shared a small laugh, enjoying the fact of their Carrows' sentence to Azkaban for life.

Had the students looked up, they might have noticed a small smile appear on the DADA professor's face as he gazed at his wife.

But as it was, students were cheerfully chatting and catching up as they ate.

* * *

At the Gryffindor table, on the end towards the head table, Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley were talking happily over the rule change, as it meant more freedom for them during meals.

"Professor Snape looks different," commented Hermione. "Happier."

"Which one?" jokingly asked Neville from her right.

"Both."


	29. Epilogue II

**Chapter 29: Epilgoue, part 2**

**Five Years Later**

**September 1****st****, 2003**

**"There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with." **  
**~Harry Crews**

* * *

"…in light of Professor Flitwick's recent retirement," the newly-reinstated Headmaster announced before the entire school and its attentive students, "a new Head of Ravenclaw House is needed. I am pleased," indeed, he actually was, "to announce that none other than our own Madam Snape has accepted this role, as well as the title of Deputy Headmistress."

An earsplitting roar of cheers and applause followed the Headmaster's announcement, from students of all tables in the hall, including the head table.

Hidden from the students' view behind the table, Severus felt his wife slip her tiny hand into his own and gave it a delighted squeeze. He did not release her hand, however, and calmly stroked circles on the back of her hand.

After he finished the brief and annual start of term announcements and the feast began, he seated himself in his chair, with Civia on his right and Minerva on his left.

Minerva had stepped down from the office of Headmistress, back to just Transfiguration professor, insisting she was getting on in years, and that her old injury from the instance of several Stunners to the back was not helping the stress of the position. As her Deputy, Severus had been chosen by the Board of Governors to be the Headmaster.

The Potions Master had been reluctant at first, admittedly, but Minerva had been insistent. Combined with his wife's determination, it was not long before Severus complied. In the end, it was a change he was glad for. Glad as he had been to have the Defense Against the Dark Arts position that he had for so long wished for, Severus found that being Headmaster was easier than dealing with the dunderheaded students daily-despite the piles of paperwork he had.

Even years after Severus' ordeal with the blasted snake Nagini, his scars had never quite healed completely, a harsh scar marring his pale throat. But his usual high-collared robes usually hid them from public. His voice had returned to its previous state, though it would occasionally get hoarse and rough whenever illness set in, or after a particularly loud day of admonishing and scolding students.

Civia did not get out of the war so easily either. Her back could get achy easily because of Voldemort's last spell upon her, and the harsh landing. In her reckless insanity, as her husband put in, she had gotten several deep cuts and wounds, which scarred, though none were particularly visible or noticeable-none like that on her husband's throat. But on cold or ill days, aftereffects of the excruciating Cruciatus Curses—from many: Voldemort, Bellatrix, the Carrows—would hit her hard, causing a terrible trembling and aches, something that affected her husband as well, though far more severe; it was treatable with easily made potions, thankfully.

But even after their wounds and scars, the Snapes were still healthy and happy, even if Severus did not show the latter obviously. Despite his impassive countenance to the students, he was most obviously more relaxed and content than ever before, Civia observed.

The usual chatter filled the hall, pleasant and happy.

"When did you get that ring, Severus?" asked Minerva suddenly, curiously. Said ring was on his right ring finger, mirroring his wedding ring on his left hand. The stone was a deep blood red color—not quite Gryffindor red, but certainly close—but most certainly was not a ruby.

"Our anniversary," replied Civia with a sly smile.

"Oh, how was that?" the Transfiguration Mistress asked curiously, "Did you two enjoy your trip to Greece?"

"It was adequate," grumbled the Headmaster sourly.

Civia chuckled and leaned towards her godmother and stage whispered conspiratorially, "He's just saying that because he got sunburned all over—and I mean _everywhere_!"

"Enough, wife," he said, though there was an affection in his tone that few would expect from him. Said wife laughed but kissed him lovingly.

"Enough over there!" said Pomona with a joking smile, "You two are scaring the students, acting like that!"

A small smirk appeared on Severus' face. "Isn't that part of my role here, the feared bat of a Headmaster?"

Civia laughed softly. "Yes, dear, but careful—they may think I'm causing you to go soft."

A deep chuckle preceded his simple reply. "I am only providing an acceptable role model as a happily married man."

Beside them, Pomona grinned rather cheekily to them. "Six years ago I would never have thought I would see the day you'd describe yourself as a happy man, Severus. Civia, you've done wonders."

The Potions Mistress smiled and laughed while her husband chuckled quietly.

Severus gave a small smile to his wife but nodded. "She has done many wonders, the best of which, to me, is accepting me."

To him in a whisper, she said with a beaming smile, "Severus, when will you learn? I never even had to consider it. There was no question in my mind at all."


	30. Epilogue III: All was Well

**Chapter 30, Epilogue part 3**

**Forty-Nine Years Later**

**2048**

"_**All was well**_**." – JK Rowling**

At the ages of eighty-eight, both of the Professors Snape had aged extremely well. Only the silver at Severus' temples and the sparse silver strands streaked through her curls gave away their aging, although it was remarkably well for a pair nearly in their eighties—which for wizards, was more like early to mid- forties for muggles. Needless to say, this did not go unnoticed by those like Harry and Ginny, or Minerva.

The two Potions Masters had been together for more than fifty years. They were still as in love as they had been a five decades ago. If nothing, they had only fallen deeper in love. They still challenged each other intellectually, each as sharp as years ago—debating over articles and ideas and potions.

But their young appearances were not unnoticed by the Wizarding World. There had already been _Daily Prophet _articles and rumors. Only a select few knew the truth—the six main ex-students of the DA, their spouses, Civia's nieces and nephews, and Minerva. It was not a unique story—but only a single other couple in the entirety of Wizarding history has achieved it. It took them two years to figure it out, the secret, the recipe, the process.

But they did it.

* * *

Civia pulled the worn lavender robe closer around her, silently casting a warming charm as she walked through the cool, dark chambers. It was the same robe she had gotten from Severus years ago.

The door creaked softly as she pulled it open, revealing the Headmaster's office, lit only by a few candles on the desk. All the portraits were sleeping, snoring from their frames. On the desk, there were a couple picture frames with Wizarding photographs smiling and waving. One held a picture of Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and all their children, who Civia considered to be own nieces and nephews, or perhaps something akin to grandchildren. Another was an old photo of Civia and her husband, from what must have been their second year of marriage, soon after the war's end.

A dark head was bent over a parchment as a handsome phoenix-feather quill traveled across the parchment swiftly.

Civia padded behind the man sitting at the desk, before gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I thought you had gone to bed," a soft but deep voice said quietly to her.

She smiled lovingly to the man. "I couldn't sleep without you, Sev. Come to bed. It can wait until morning."

Severus reluctantly set down the quill, turning to her. "It needs to be on their desk by morning, love."

The Potions Mistress rolled her eyes. "The budget request for the new school year can wait a few extra hours. If the Governors don't know how good a Headmaster you are after all these years, they can stuff it. You should sleep. It's well past one."

He smiled as he stood, embracing her from behind, wrapping his arms around her middle. Civia returned the embrace, resting her head over Severus' heart. Their hands intertwined, and he held up her left hand.

The wedding ring sparkled in the moonlight from the window.

"Fifty years tomorrow, love," Severus said.

A tender smile formed on her lips as she tilted her head to kiss him happily. "I know. Fifty years of happiness."

Civia stared at him for a long minute. His face had aged and wrinkled since they had married. There was silver in his temples now, but the rest of his hair was still the same ebony. His obsidian eyes were the same—deep and piercing and beautiful as he stared at her with love and tenderness plain to see.

"I love you," she whispered, in the silence of the office.

He smiled lovingly. "As I love you, Civia."

Civia Snape smiled as her hands idly toyed with their newest rings. Hers was, of course, her wedding ring from so many years ago, and the other was an old gold ring set with a stone of the deepest black she had ever seen aside from her husband's eyes. In the moonlight, the engraving upon the stone was sharply contrasting—a circle encased by a triangle, dissected by a line: the Resurrection Stone. They had found it, years ago, in the forest. Since, they had used it many brief times, to recall loved and departed ones to speak with or say goodbye. Albus was a frequent visitor by the ring, as well as James and Lily. Both Potters had long since forgiven the Snapes. James had been apparently furious at them both for their relationship, but accepted it. Severus and he had ended their quarrel, if only for Civia. Lily had nearly begged for Severus' forgiveness for rebuffing him years ago, and also officially released him from the vow to protect her son.

Of his rings, one was his wedding band. The other, on his opposite hand, was the ring of a blood red stone.

Their Philosopher's Stone shined in the moonlight, their secret, in plain view of the world. Having recalled Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel for advice, they had unearthed the secrets of the Stone. Created, together by the married couple, it was beautiful, not only in appearance, but also in usage and what it meant.

Without speaking, Civia kissed her husband, their love filling her with bliss and contentment.

The Stone promised an eternity with Severus—with the one she loved and cherished unconditionally, and loved and cherished her.

The two were together, bonded by love, with the rings. By no means did they plan to live forever, they knew, and accepted it. Civia and Severus were merely borrowing their powers until another came along to take up the mantle.

But for now, the Snapes were content and happy as it was. Voldemort was gone, and the world was at peace, and they were still madly, deeply, irrevocably in love.

All was well.

**End of "The Tale of Civia Snape"**

**and Part Two of the series,**

**Civia's Tale**

_Completed September 27, 2010 by  
_

**Acknowledgements:**

**First, of course, to Jo Rowling, for writing the series. How could Civia and Severus ever have existed without her? **

**Secondly, to my friends and betas: ZoeyAradiaMystique, Evangilena Night, and MarvelousMonstrosity. Love you guys for all your advice, compliments, and feedback! **

**Finally, to all my readers, for without whom fanfiction would be a long, sad, and lonely road.**

**I hope you all enjoyed reading Civia's Tale as much as I have loved writing it. I began in April of 2010 and continued until September 2010—six months for both parts of the Tale. Personally, I must say I think this my best story yet, but I think that after every story I finish. Perhaps I'm improving, perhaps not. But I am growing—that much I know. Growing and branching out between styles and genres, and I hope my readers—those who have stuck with me since the beginning—would agree. For the longest time—since April, when I started this—I've thought of this as my baby. I've longer to write a story about Severus Snape in some way for a long time—to give him the happy ending he truly, **_**truly**_** deserves—, and I've found it. It has been a wonderful journey writing this. As I finished and post this chapter, I doubt I have ever felt both this euphoric, and this melancholy. I shall miss writing Civia's tale. She's been a good friend in my mind, and I can't explain how wonderful writing her story has been. **

**I only hope you've enjoyed Civia's Tale as much as I. **

**Thank you.**


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